


I'm Gonna Stand My Ground

by hato



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Dean Winchester Has a Panty Kink, Dean is an awesome brother-in-law, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Librarian Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Making Love, Nurse Dean Winchester, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Pink Panties, Slow Burn, Stalking, Swearing, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2020-01-05 10:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 98,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18364100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hato/pseuds/hato
Summary: Dean Winchester loves being a Pediatrics Nurse Practitioner. Especially here at Hunters Hollow Pediatrics clinic, working alongside his very pregnant sister-in-law in preparation for covering her maternity leave in a few months. His coworkers are great. His patients are awesome. And, today, an amazingly hot Nervous Dad is in Exam Room #3...Castiel Novak loves being a Research Librarian. But he's stuck here in Hunters Hollow Public Library, filling in for the oft absent Children's Librarian and unexpectedly raising his own two children as a single parent. His normal life back in Pontiac  has been temporarily put on hold and there's very little to be happy about. But, today, a ridiculously handsome Healthcare Professional is looking after his youngest...





	1. Then and Now

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I needed as a distraction. 
> 
> Tags, warnings, etc. will be added/adjusted as needed when new content is posted. Trying not to get too ahead of myself here. However, there will be the sex eventually, promise.  
> And a Disclaimer(because I totally forgot one): These characters belong to Eric Kripke and the wonderful actors who portray them on TV. I'm just futzing about with them for my own selfish reasons. 
> 
> Title is taken from Tom Petty's _I Won't Back Down._

**Chapter 1: Then and Now**

**Then: 13 years ago**

This is not how Dean’s extended Memorial Day weekend was supposed to go.

There’s no leisurely clean up of the house and yard with Bobby and Ellen on Thursday. No movie marathons with Sam on Friday. No sleeping in on Saturday. No beer and barbecue on Sunday. No sitting in a rickety lawn chair with his bare feet in a crappy five dollar wading pool watching the neighbor kids shooting off fireworks on the other side of the treeline on Memorial Day.

Because it’s ass o’clock on the Thursday morning and Dean is here. In his Baby. With his recently bailed out, still drunk, moderately belligerent father in the passenger seat. Spending his well deserved sleeping time driving through the blank darkness to get John Winchester back to Bobby’s so maybe the sorry sonuvabitch can dry out for the holiday weekend.

Though Dean knows better.

“ Soundin’ bit rough, son.” John’s words are slurred around the edges, that last has just enough mocking sharpness to scrape across Dean’s already raw nerves. “ You been watchin’ the oil levels?” The , _like I told you to_ , is not spoken but it hangs heavily between them anyway. The older man is just waiting for the younger to bat it back, to start the fight the Wild Turkey is hankering for.

Dean refuses the bait. “ Yessir.” Nothing but _yessir_ and _no’sir_ since he picked John up from the drunk tank in Sioux City. Dean is honestly shocked his father even made it that far to Bobby’s before getting picked up. Even more shocked that John had made an effort to visit for the holiday weekend, especially knowing that Sam would be there as well. Dean’s heart wants to believe that Sam’s presence is the reason why the eldest Winchester was making his way back, but he doesn’t hold out much hope. About as much as he has for John staying sober after this last run in with the law.

“ Doesn’t sound like it.” John continues his passive aggressive monologue, with Dean replying when necessary, but mostly he tunes his father out and focuses on the stretch of road in front of them.

It’s not that far between Sioux City and Sioux Falls, with little traffic this early in the morning. And Dean certainly isn’t keen on spending anymore time than is necessary in the confined space of the car with his father verbally cutting him apart between every loaded pause. But Dean is wary of holiday weekend speed traps and DUI checkpoints and drives accordingly, not much above the legally posted limit. Meaning he still has another hour until he hits Singer Salvage and can unload his ungrateful passenger onto Bobby or the couch, whichever he comes across first.

“ You gonna answer that?” John snaps, pointing to the cell phone wedged between the seat and back. Angry with the electric guitar ringtone apparently interrupting his self-righteous rant.

Dean hadn’t even realized it was his phone ringing. He’d completely zoned out, letting the Tom Petty seeping from the speakers lull him into a haze. Without taking his eyes from the road, Dean pulls the phone free and flips it open, heart already sinking heavy in his gut. He already knows who it is, but is careful not to name them aloud. “ Hey, what’s up?”

“ Dean, Bobby called me.”Sam’s voice over the line is even, tinged with mild irritation. “ And he wants me to run this by you first.”

Which Dean knows means his younger brother is about ask him something he knows Dean is going to hate with a passion and most likely adamantly refuse. “ Well, if Bobby has you calling me, then whatever it is is probably not a good idea.” This argument always worked on Sammy back in the good old days. Nearly all the way through the boy’s high school years. Dean is very aware of his father’s cold silence on the other side of the car.

Sam obviously chooses to ignore the old bit of logic. “I was thinking Jess and I could stay in a motel.”

Instead of staying with them at Bobby’s. Dean sighs, but honestly, this is better than he’d expected. His first thought when he realized it was his brother calling had been that Sam was canceling the trip altogether. The tightness in his middle relaxes a bit, enough for him to cover with a lame joke.“ Awww, but I put a scented candle in the upstairs bathroom. Just for you.”

Sam dutifully laughs. “ Those are for you and you know it.” There’s a pause, just bursting with unspoken apologies. Sam goes the reasonable route instead. “ We can still meet up each day, hang out on the lake, and hit up Ellen’s… I just don’t want Jess to have to deal with it, you know?”

“ I know. It’s okay.” And it is, because Dean totally understands where Sam is coming from. They’ve been hiding their crappy homelife for so long it’s just become second nature. No point in dragging anyone else into their family mess, after all. “ Call me when your plane lands, okay?”

“ I will. I’m really sorry, Dean.”

“ Don’t worry ‘bout it, bitch.”

” See ya, jerk.”

Dean hasn’t even closed his phone before John is putting in his two cents. “ Your brother tryin’ ta get out of seein’ me?” His mouth is twisted into a rueful grin. Patronizing. Fucking condescending, as always.

The phone drops into Dean’s lap, another glance at his father as he forms a reply in his mind. Dean opens his mouth to say something, spit an insult, yell an ultimatum. Just fucking swear at fate itself. But John gives him _that_ look, the one that makes Dean feel small and stupid and all _how dare he talk back to his father_ and Dean closes his mouth with a snap and turns his attention back to the road. He finally manages to bite off a quiet, “ No’sir,” before falling silent again. A tension headache has already formed behind his temples, only growing worse with the way he’s constantly clenching his jaw shut.

He just wants one nice goddamn holiday where everyone gets along or is at least fucking civil to each other. Where Sam doesn’t have to worry about bringing his girlfriend home. Where Dean doesn’t have to make a choice between seeing his kid brother and fulfilling his obligations to his father.

Tom Petty begins his spiel about not backing down and Dean tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Stares at the rare sets of oncoming headlights on the other side of the interstate median.

There’s a long moment of silence, just Tom crooning away, then John’s gruff voice interjects. “ He still coming down?”

Dean actually blinks and does a tiny head jerk, the question smacking squarely against his defensive mental walls. He’d expected another long suffering rant about how much Sam owed John and how John had given everything for them and how ungrateful the youngest Winchester is, etc. etc. etc. But there’s a hint of hesitant hope in his father’s tone that Dean hasn’t heard since he’d asked whether or not he was invited to Sam’s high school graduation. The tension in his jaw loosens enough for Dean to swallow as he debates his answer. “ Yeah, he’s coming.” He thinks about mentioning Jess, wondering if her presence might curb John’s addiction for the weekend. “ He’s brin--”

“ Dean!”

There’s barely a curve in the road, but just as Baby is coming around the bend Dean sees the blinding lights of an 18-wheeler crossing the grassy median and coming straight at them. Dean reacts instantly, jerking the wheel hard left to avoid the metal monster barreling diagonally across the road. It works until the trailer- hauling a shiny tanker of God only knows what- begins tilting toward them and in the split second before Baby clips the tail end of the tanker and flips, Dean realizes John’s arm is flung across the open space of the front seat to press Dean back into his seat.

_He’s soccer-momming me._

Then the whole world explodes.

Bits and pieces.

Pain. Heat. Smoke.

His father’s voice but so far away.

John bloody and shouting and Dean can’t understand.

Hands on him. Pain and pressure and screaming.

Blue eyes.

Blue eyes and flames. Flames, flames, fire…

_Fire! Fire in Sammy’s room! Where’s Dad? Where’s Mom and where’s Sammy and fire, fire, fire…_

Loudloudloudhothothot...

Firefirefirefirefire…

Blue eyes and hot air and pain and, “ I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

_I was a bad son. A bad brother. Badbadbad…_

“ I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

_Am I in hell?_

 

**XOXOXOX**

 

**Now: August 2018**

“ Dean? Will you take the possible flu in room three?” Dr. Moseley curves her hand over Dean’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“ Yes, ma’am,” Dean enthusiastically replies as he closes the file folder on his desk and shoves it under his keyboard to finish it later. He’ll happily take an infectious disease over his paperwork any day.

Thursdays at Hunters Hollow Pediatrics are typically busy and today has been no exception, if a bit rainier than most. Dean’s only been working here for a couple of months ( and living in Hunters Hollow, TN for only a week more), but has quickly fallen into the day to day rhythm in the children’s clinic. As the newest member on staff, Dean doesn’t have the patient base that his coworkers have built up over the years, which leaves him with the majority of the walk-ins. Dean is totally cool with that. It’s a bit like when he was working the Sioux Falls ER; never knowing exactly what to expect from patient to patient, minute to minute. Though here, in a small community clinic that caters only to the non-urgent under eighteen crowd, his time is mostly spent advising parents to give plenty of fluids and having awkward puberty talks with young teens.

“ You won’t be smiling once he upchucks. But, thank you.” Missouri is grinning at him as she passes by, files in hand, disappearing into her office.

There’s a scramble around the nurses’ station. Pamela reaches the whiteboard first, writing a bold ‘ #3’ in purple dry erase in the right hand corner at the top of a pre-marked grid, then checks the ‘Exam Room’ box underneath. Alex is next, sweeping out of exam room two and adding a green checkmark next to Pamela’s.

Constantine- aka Stan- hangs up the phone and uses orange to check a box under the title ‘Waiting Room’. He throws Dean an absent, “ I believe in you, Winchester,” in his lightly accented voice before heading back to his small lab.

Jess appears from fucking nowhere and stands in front of the board in apparent indecision. She smells vaguely of rain, recently returned from a short break outside to clear away her lingering morning sickness. Dean hates it for her. Jess taps the capped end of the blue dry erase marker against her chin before turning to Dean. “ What do you think, Dean? Feeling lucky today?”

Dean would roll his eyes, but the ER betting pools were much worse. At least here the currency of the realm is bags of candy to fill up the handwoven basket on the corner of the nurse’s station instead of excessive bodily fluids duty. So far this month, Dean has only had to purchase two bags of Dove dark chocolates, so he considers himself pretty fortunate. He strides forward, grabs a pink marker from his scrub pocket- today’s is black with a Hot Wheels print- and places an oversized check mark under ‘ False Alarm’. “ Let’s do it.” He grins brightly at Jess as she makes her mark beside his and then heads toward exam room three at the end of the hall.

The file is in one hand, his other on the knob when Alex knocks her shoulder against his arm and motions for him to bend down. Dean frowns but does as instructed, hoping Alex isn’t going to scream in his ear or something equally juvenile and he really needs to stop being so suspicious of people. It’s all Sam’s stupid pranking ass fault.

“ FYI, “ Alex whispers, barely audible over the hum of conversation and A/C. “ Daddy’s a worrier, so go easy on him.”

“ Uh, okay?” Dean is still frowning at the information. Overreacting tiger moms and clueless dads usually elicit jokes and eye rolls. Dean has to wonder what this guy’s story is that’s gotten him the sympathy vote from the normally straightforward, no nonsense Alex. He scratches at his jaw beneath his short beard and shrugs.“ No scolding, pour on the charm.”

“ No charm.” Alex nails him with a hard look and a pointed finger nearly touching his nose. “ Just be nice. He’s like New Dad times a thousand, so treat with care.”

“ Damn, okay.” Dean leans away, swatting her finger down. “ Best behavior, promise.

Alex gives him a nod and moves along. Dean sticks his tongue out behind her back and glances down at the open file in his hands. His mind grabs the names and he puts on his most unthreatening smile before knocking quietly on the door. A pause, then Dean opens it wide to step inside where he’s vaguely aware of an adult standing up. “ Mornin’, Mr. Novak. I’m Dean Winchester.” He sticks his hand out for the usual introductory shake and barely gets his fingers around the man’s hand before his initial eye contact promptly strikes him dumb at the sight.

Blue eyes.

Something in Dean’s stomach twists uncomfortably. A jolt of adrenaline for no fucking reason, except this guy has got a pair of incredibly bright sky blue eyes and sometimes that causes his brain to kick up a bunch of old ass memories that have absolutely no relevance to his current situation. And since lots of people have blue eyes it’s no excuse for Dean’s professionalism to take a vacation. He forces the brain fart to dissipate, his vision finally expanding to take in more than just the cerulean orbs and Dean finds an equally pleasing arrangement of features; messy dark hair, tanned skin and laugh lines, chapped lips amidst an expanse of dark stubble. And no wedding band. So totally his type and also so unfuckingprofessional of him.

Also the man is soaked through to his white undershirt, like he didn’t actually use the tan trench coat draped over the back of the chair, dripping onto the tile.

“ Hello, Dr. Winchester.” The man’s voice is deep and gravelly; either naturally or due to the fatigue and stress common to new parents, Dean isn’t certain, but he happily listens as the man continues, “ This is Jack.”

Oh, yeah. There’s a sick toddler in the room, as well.

Get your shit together, Winchester! Dean mentally kicks his own ass and forces his hand to release and move on to the boy’s blonde head, petting gently. “ Heya, Jack,” he greets softly.

For his part, Jack barely acknowledges Dean’s presence, blue eyes that Dean is certain would normally give his daddy’s a run for their money, currently dulled by illness. And Jack is bone dry, which explains the wet coat and adult; Castiel obviously used the coat to protect Jack from the rain instead of himself. Dean turns his attention back to the father for a moment, wanting to clear up any misunderstandings. “ Actually, I’m a nurse practitioner, so you can just call me Dean.” It matters to some people, the initials at the end of his name. Dean’s perfectly happy with his credentials, but he knows that some parents don’t want anything less than the highest level of alphabet soup diagnosing their child. Best to discover that particular prejudice in the beginning, especially if he’s going to have to reschedule poor Jack with Jess or Missouri.

“ My apologies.” Mr. Novak seems genuinely contrite about his faux pas, but rallies quickly with a, “ Hello, Dean. You may call me, Castiel.” He pauses expectantly.

Dean brightens his smile and gestures for the man- Castiel- to sit. “ Awesome name. An angel, isn’t it?”

Castiel seems taken aback by that question, and Dean is worried he may have offended the man. But Castiel almost immediately softens a bit, as though relieved, and offers the barest hint of a smile. “ Uh, yes. The angel of Thursday.” He lowers himself into the straight backed chair next to the exam bench, Jack tucked protectively against his chest.

“ Cool.” Dean plops down onto the rolling stool and opens the laptop on the low counter. He takes the long moments of passwords and page loading to get a more solid grip on himself. Yes, Castiel is stupidly attractive. Yes, Castiel’s blue eyes make him squirmy. But Jack is obviously miserable and needs Dean’s full attention. The boy’s file appears onscreen and Dean matches the information to what's in the hardcopy in his hand. He has his notes, but Dean’s found it’s always best to hear the details straight from the source. “ Okay, Castiel. Tell me what’s going on with Jack-Jack here.”

Castiel rubs soothing circles over the boy’s back and clears his throat. “ Well, uh, he’s had a runny nose and some coughing since Friday, but his temperature never rose above ninety-nine point four and his appetite was still normal so I thought it must be seasonal allergies, like Claire, my daughter, has. I called Dr. Moseley and she recommended a half dose of over-the-counter antihistamine that Claire takes, since Jack is in the upper percentile for his age.”

Dean eyes the height/weight numbers on his chart, confirming what he sees before him; that Jack is definitely bigger than the average 27-month-old. “ Did that help at all?”

“ It seemed to.” Castiel admits, pressing a kiss to Jack’s clammy forehead when he whimpers. “ But this morning he was so lethargic and his temperature was too high and I was afraid he might be having a reaction to the flu shot he received last week and--”

Dean recognizes the self-recrimination and rising panic and quickly heads it off with an understanding smile. “ You brought him in as soon as you realized something was off and that’s what we always want to see.” He’s glad to see Castiel relax a bit across from him, slumping in the hard seat. Jack closes his eyes and rubs his face against his father’s blue tie, which is twisted backwards against the white dress shirt. The long sleeves are unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows, exposing strong looking lean forearms. Castiel definitely has the whole sexy disheveled daddy thing going on.

Dean rolls forward on the stool until his knee is almost touching the other man’s, leaning in to slip a finger into Jack’s loose grasp. “ Hey, buddy.” The big blue eyes crack open. Dean smiles and pulls the otoscope from the wall bracket, slipping the hygienic sheath into place. “ Let’s check out your ears, make sure nothing’s going on there.” It wouldn’t be the first time an ear infection was mistaken for a stomach bug or bad allergies. Dean carefully inserts the tip into Jack’s closest ear, the toddler not resisting in the least. There’s some redness. “ Not too bad. How ‘bout the other?” He glances up at Castiel who gets the hint and expertly shifts Jack to his other side, exposing his left ear. Dean nods in thanks and quickly performs his inspection. Oh yeah. There’s the main problem. Swollen and cherry red. Once the otoscope is free, Jack reaches up and scrubs half-heartedly at his ear. Dean rubs it gently with his thumb, then moves on to the boy’s raw little button nose. Might as well cover all his bases. “ Real quick.” He ducks down to view the inside of the tiny space and indeed there’s some more redness and swelling. Which could just be from the sneezing and sinus drainage. Jack rubs his nose against the tie again. “ Has he been exposed to anyone with the flu in the past week, that you know of?”

Castiel shakes his head. “ No one’s been ill. Claire had a cold a few weeks ago, and they both came in last Wednesday to get their flu shots. ”

Dean nods, brain ticking off his checklist before he makes a diagnosis. “ Okay, so Jack definitely has an ear infection, left ear and the beginnings of one in the right. But since he’s basically been exposed to the virus from the shot and being in here- sad fact, lots of kids catch stuff from waiting rooms despite precautions- so I’m gonna do a swab and check for influenza too, just to completely rule that out before I prescribe antibiotics.”

Castiel takes it all in with a worried look, his hold tightening around Jack who is now beginning to squirm. “ Of course.”

Dean gloves up and grabs the slim package from the tray Alex has set up for him, tearing the plastic open to retrieve a long thin swab. He shoots Castiel a sympathetic look and firmly grasps Jack’s chin. “ Real quick now.” Swab in, twirl, retreat. Jack is, naturally, not pleased and displays his unhappiness with a pitiful sob that turns into a deep hacking cough as he hides in his father’s shirt. Dean’s heart always breaks a little when he has to be the bad guy. “ Not fun. I know, buddy.” He shoves the swab into its protective case and strips the gloves away as he addresses Castiel. “ Results will take a few minutes. You need anything? Some water? Or a coffee? Or I’ve got the nice extra soft Kleenex at my desk?” So, he might be going a bit overboard here, but Jesus the guy looks just as worn down as his kid and Dean seriously can’t resist those kicked puppy eyes.

The generous spiel does get a tired smile from Castiel, his big hand patting the toddler’s back. “ Tissue would be appreciated. I know his nose is sore with all the wiping.”

“ Tissues it is. Be back, ASAP.” Dean backs out of the room, supplies in hand, and heads straight for his desk. He snatches the box of expensive ultra soft lotiony tissues and tucks it under his arm. Next stop, he drops off the swab and paperwork with Stan in the lab. He passes Alex in the hallway and hands over the tissues, asking her to drop them off at exam room three and completely ignoring her knowing expression. A quick check at the nurse’s station confirms he’s not needed anywhere else for the moment and Dean decides to go ahead and start on the antibiotics prescription; by the time the call gets through Stan should have the lab results. It’s timed perfectly, the tech hands over the results with a mouthed, _negative_ , and the pharmacy line finally picks up.

Then there’s a quick detour to the freezer in the breakroom where Dean grabs a bright red Pedialyte popsicle, cutting the end off for convenience's sake. Alex, again, throws him an eye roll and knowing smirk that Dean returns with gusto, pointing the popsicle at her menacingly. The popsicle is still braced outward in his hand as he swings the door open and stabs it directly into a firm chest, just shy of Jack’s face. Dean startles and jerks back, clutching the treat to his own chest.“ Oh, crap! I am so sorry!”

For his part, Castiel merely looks down where the red stain is beginning to spread across his shirt, then back up to Dean, his smile growing even wider. “ It matches the ketchup stains from breakfast.” He reaches out for the frozen pop and Dean promptly deposits it into the man’s hand. “ Thank you, so much. For the tissues, as well.”

“ You’re, you’re, uhm, welcome.” Dean is fucking blushing. He scrubs a hand through the short hair at the back of his neck and turns away to hide his flushed face, certain not even the short beard can hide it. Not that it matters much, since he can feel his ears burning bright red and there’s no covering those. “ So, uh, good news. Jack does not have the flu.”

“ Thank goodness,” Castiel murmurs behind him.

“ So I phoned in the antibiotic prescription to the pharmacy you have on file and they should have them ready within an hour. Basic amoxicillin, a seven day supply to make sure we get rid of it for good. Lots of fluids and rest. He’ll be good as new in no time.” Dean turns back around (slowly this time, extra cautious of where Castiel is in the room).

Jack is sitting on the exam bench, holding the popsicle now, but not sucking on it. Castiel is gathering his things; a diaper bag slung over his shoulder, a wet navy suit coat draped carelessly over the bag. He has a steady hand on Jack’s knee to keep him in place. “ Thank you, Dean. We appreciate the kindness.” Castiel offers his free hand.

“ Glad to help, really.” Dean is blushing and beaming and what a fucking dork he is as he steps forward to accept the man’s hand in his own.

Another shared grasp, firm and warm, calloused palms against scarred fingers.

It lasts another two glorious seconds before Jack leans over Castiel’s arm and barfs all over Dean’s shirt.

**XOXOXOX**

As soon as Dr. Winchester- no, Dean the Nurse Practitioner- leaves the exam room, Castiel pops up from his seat and begins pacing the tiny space, rocking Jack in small soothing motions. To comfort Jack, but also to get his own thoughts and emotions back under control.

It’s been a hectic morning, with Jack’s health tipping Castiel from watchful to worried and getting Claire to school on time before calling in to the library to have Garth cover his shift at the desk for the day in case he was unable to come in to work later which it looks like he won’t be and that’s another call to make after he hits up the pharmacy.

Already nervous about Jack’s unidentified illness, Castiel had been even more anxious when the nurse at the front desk had told him that Dr. Moseley was completely booked and wouldn’t be able to see Jack today. The woman has been a balm to Castiel's frayed parental nerves since moving here and taking on full parenting responsibilities. And as much as he trusts the other practitioners, there’s just something so reassuring about Dr. Moseley’s presence that Castiel had felt in dire need of this morning.

So despite this double dose of anxiety and a lack of anything other than a cold cup of coffee in his stomach, Castiel had still been taken aback by the man’s appearance when the NP entered the room. Castiel has never seen a more physically beautiful man. Stunning, really. Strong build, as tall as Castiel if not a tad taller. Short brown hair touched with dark blonde at the ends, ruffled casually. Lightly tanned skin with liberally sprinkled freckles across his nose and cheeks above a neatly trimmed beard that’s a reddish shade darker than the hair on his crown. Plush lips… And that smile. One hundred watts and one hundred percent genuine.

Until it dropped in that bit of startled surprise that had Castiel’s hackles on edge again. Not that he ever wanted the notoriety he’s gained over the last year and a half, but he certainly didn’t want to deal with his ill begotten fame in his children’s pediatrics office. Invasive questions and suspicious glances.

But then, there’d been a split second of recognition on Castiel’s part and for the life of him he can’t imagine where he would have seen someone as gorgeous as this man and not have a perfectly clear memory of it. Even in passing. But still, something familiar niggled at the back of his mind, his little inner voice clearing its throat pointedly. And then Jack had pushed his wet nose against Castiel’s bare throat and reminded him that he had more pressing matters than remembering when and where- if at all-he saw this Sexy Lumberjack.

Once they'd both managed to get over themselves (and Castiel still wonders at Dean’s initial flummoxing) it goes much smoother and Castiel is assured by the other man’s gentle bedside manner and dedication to his job. It is very obvious to Castiel that Dean loves his work and cares very much about his patients.

With the primary cause of Castiel’s anxiety being taken care of, he can now deal with the unexpected secondary cause now that Dean is out of the room. Dean is attractive, yes. Dean is very friendly, yes. But that’s no reason for the weird hit of familiarity Castiel has whenever he thinks about that split second look of… He wants to call it blank loss but honestly, there had been the tiniest flash of unpleasant shock in those pretty green eyes. Which is completely insane and Castiel didn’t come here to flirt with his children’s healthcare providers or question any odd feelings either might have about the other.

“ Jack, we have got to get some sleep tonight because I think I’m legitimately losing my mind.” Cas presses another kiss into the damp blonde hair and Jack snuggles closer.

The nurse from before, Alex- Castiel has spoken with her on several occasions- brings the promised tissues and Castiel would question the amused expression on her young face but Jack has a coughing fit and he’s too busy wiping the snotty nose and carefully covering the hacking mouth.

He’s still pacing slowly back and forth when the door opens suddenly, right in front of him. Something cold and hard stabs him in the chest, right over the front pocket, and Castiel is momentarily stunned silent.

By the sudden sugary attack. And by the look of absolute horror on Dean’s face. “ Oh, crap! I am so sorry!”

Again, there’s the tingling at the back of his skull that is just aching to place this man’s face with a concrete memory.

But there’s also a surge of absolute hilarity at the entire situation.

Fighting the urge to laugh outright, Castiel bites his bottom lip and watches the red splotch spread outward, a small dribble pulled down by gravity toward the older spots across his stomach leftover from their hurried breakfast. When he raises his gaze, Dean is still standing panic stricken across from him, popsicle nearly broken in half in his fist. Something inside him wants to bring the smile back to that handsome face so Castiel lets his own smile break free and makes an attempt at humor. “ It matches the ketchup stains from breakfast.” He reaches out for the intended treat, carefully folding his fingers around it once it lands in his palm. And if Dean’s thumb grazes the side of Castiel’s palm, well, Castiel is going to simply gloss over the little frisson of warmth. Though he will offer his gratitude properly.“ Thank you, so much. For the tissues, as well.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck, head ducked down.“ You’re, you’re, uhm, welcome.”

The NP turns back toward the computer on the small desk, but not before Castiel catches the tinge of red in his cheeks. Too surprised to look away, he continues to stare as Dean’s ears begin glowing bright red. Castiel truly doesn’t know what to make of the flustered behavior. Dean has shown none of the usual signs of the Nosey Neds who recognize his name from the papers or his image from the news so it can't be his infamous status. But Castiel can't imagine a man as attractive and outgoing as Dean being shy.

“ So, uh, good news. Jack does not have the flu.” Dean focuses on the laptop.

“ Thank goodness,” Castiel breathes a sigh of relief. He remembers ear infections from his own childhood. They're definitely misery makers on their own, but flu would have compounded that misery tenfold. He places Jack on the exam bench, checking the toddler’s hold on the ice pop. Jack doesn't seem very interested in it, but he hasn't thrown it across the room so Castiel considers it a win. He begins packing up as he listens to Dean across the room.

“ So I phoned in the antibiotic prescription to the pharmacy you have on file and they should have them ready within an hour. Basic amoxicillin, a seven day supply to make sure we get rid of it for good. Lots of fluids and rest. He’ll be good as new in no time.”

“ Thank you, Dean. We appreciate the kindness.” Castiel braces Jack with his forearm, hand on his knee, then holds out his free hand for another shake that he is certainly not looking forward to in any inappropriate way.

“ Glad to help, really.” Dean is blushing again and Castiel can hardly contain the giggly bubble of joy that swells in his throat at the sight. It only grows when Dean closes the distance between them to take his hand.

Another shared grasp, firm and warm, calloused palms against scarred fingers.

It lasts another two glorious seconds before Jack leans over Castiel’s arm and throws up all over Dean’s shirt.

Castiel’s mouth drops open, gaping at the sheer volume of vomit spewing from Jack’s mouth. The toddler didn’t even have that much to eat for breakfast. And of course it’s all aimed directly at Dean who’s holding out his scrub shirt to catch it instead of backing away to let it pour onto the floor and make a bigger mess. Castiel can already see the telltale signs of repressed gagging on Dean’s face and not that Castiel had any actual thoughts of pursuing whatever weird thing that seems to be sparking between them, he certainly can’t see himself doing so after this mortifying incident.

But, despite the clenched jaw and obviously sensitive gag reflex, Dean is still grinning. He steps closer to Jack, offering up his shirt for Jack to vomit directly into, and keeping the small boy from falling from the exam bench. “ Trashcan?” He tilts his head to the side, to the metal canister sitting by the door. Jack ejects another wave of bile.

Cas practically falls over himself getting to the trash can, sweeping it to him in one smooth motion and holding it up to replace Dean’s shirt. Dean strategically steps away and, gathering the hem of his shirt to contain the acidic liquid, bends forward and uses his other hand to grab the back of his scrub and pull it forward over his head. A white t-shirt is under the soiled scrub, but Castiel catches a flash of skin and waistband before the soft cotton falls back into place. Now Dean is holding a scrub shirt full of Jack’s puke and Castiel’s brain kicks back into gear, sending the proper responses to his mouth. “ Dean, I am so sorry! ”

“ No, no. Cas, it’s okay!” Dean is actually laughing a bit, between the gagging. He dumps the whole atrocious mess into the trash and takes over holding the can so Castiel can comfort Jack who’s reached the dry heave stage. Dean’s entire face softens in sympathy as he watches Jack’s body slowly regain control. “ Poor kid.” He reaches out and knocks the tainted popsicle into the can, as well, before setting it down on the ground -still in front of Jack- and takes the few steps to open the door and stick his head out. “ Hey, Pamela? You got a second?”

Castiel can hear a brief quiet conversation on the other side of the door, but he’s more focused on getting Jack out of his disgusting clothes. “ It’s okay, Jack. Shhhhh, I know you don’t feel well.” Dean comes back to the bench and puts the discarded clothes into a plastic bag before placing it next to the open bag of wipes Castiel has sitting on the bench. “ Thank you, and again, I’m so sorry about this.”

Dean shrugs and helps get the uncooperative toddler into his sleeves. “ He was just getting me back for stabbing you with a popsicle. I think we’re even now.”

Castiel does his best to not fall apart under the combined stress of redressing Jack and Dean’s beautifully bright smile. He’s attempting his own joke, but there’s a knock on the door before it opens and Pamela enters, handing a new scrub shirt to Dean and a new grape flavored popsicle to Castiel. “ Thank you,” he nods his head in gratitude. Jack accepts the popsicle and sucks on it eagerly.

“ Thanks, Pamela.” Dean accepts the shirt with a smile (not exactly the one he’s been offering Castiel) and drops it onto the desk. He looks down and inspects the undershirt. There’s an uneven wet strip across his stomach area and apparently Dean decides the smell and dampness isn’t worth dealing with the rest of the day and he strips it off.

Castiel should avert his gaze. Seriously he just met Dean today (no matter what his faulty brain has been trying to tell him), and shouldn’t be gawking over his toddler’s head at the smooth expanse of freckled skin, faint marks of a farmer’s tan on his upper arms and circling his neck. The slightest little pudge at his midsection that makes Castiel want to poke it with his finger before sucking a mark and what in the name of all that’s holy is he doing?! So caught up in his inappropriate lusty thoughts, he nearly misses the darks line and blotches of color on Dean’s pale skin. _Tattoos_ , his mind supplies, but he doesn’t get a closer look because Dean is pulling the clean shirt over his head and blocking the very tempting view thank the Good Lord in Heaven. Castiel is happily distracted by the new scrub design. “ I like the unicorns.”

Dean laughs easily, sweeping a hand down his front to smooth down the black and rainbow printed fabric. “ Yeah, my brother gave them to me as a gag gift when I finished my degree. But joke’s on him, ‘cause unicorns are awesome and I wear ‘em at least a couple times a month.” The blush is back on his face, but he doesn’t seem uncomfortable this time.

Alex pops in this time, long braid swinging over her shoulder. “ Hey, Dean. Dr Jess said you promised to cover her lunch this morning.”

Dean frowns. “ Totally forgot. Tell her I’ll be there in a second, I swear!” He waves as the young woman ducks back out of the room, door left open. Dean turns back to Castiel, smile growing wider and deepening the crow’s feet that make Castiel's’ heart twitch uncontrollably. “ So, yeah. Eventful appointment. It was good to meet you, Cas.” He sticks his hand out again, practically beaming when Castiel accepts it without hesitation.

Castiel squeezes firmly and smiles back, hoping it’s not too gummy like he gets when overexcited. “ Likewise, Dean.”

“ Hope to see you again, when Jack’s feeling better.” Dean flashes one more grin and lets go. He gently tugs Jack’s foot before disappearing from the exam room in a flutter of papers and hint of hand sanitizer.

Castiel stands for another moment in the middle of the room, processing the last twenty minutes. He can’t, not really, and huffs a laugh before slinging his coat through the strap of the diaper bag and slinging the strap over his shoulder. Maybe he’ll see Dean at Claire’s next check-up. Castiel certainly hopes so.

_**tbc…** _


	2. Farmers and LARPers and Mr. Fizzles, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very eventful Saturday for Dean and Cas. Separately, unfortunately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments!!!

**Chapter 2: Farmers and LARPers and Mr. Fizzles, Oh My!**

**August 2018  
Saturday**

Castiel often wonders how long his celebrity will last once this entire ordeal is over.

It’s Saturday morning and he’s already had to deal with a reporter loitering around the library staff door before opening hours, and two phone calls from tabloids once the library opened to the public. He supposes it could be worse, has been worse in those first few months after it happened, but he still hates the little reminders that his life is not what it should be, not what it was before… And he won’t think about it now, because he has two beautiful children depending on him, needing him as father and mother and protector and by God he’s going to see this through.

And now he’s riled himself up again.

“ You okay? Need a hug?” Garth is already around the reference desk, arms spread wide.

Castiel has learned there’s no way to deflect. He accepts the embrace and pats the young man’s back. “ I’m fine, thank you, Garth.” He smells of cheap laundry detergent and apple juice. It’s oddly comforting.

“ Any time.” Garth releases him, grin still in place. “ How’d it go out here? Not too busy?”

Castiel glances at the caregivers and children milling about, strollers blocking the aisles and gaggles of nannies clustered together and speaking in high pitched, much too loud voices. “ Not too busy.” Which is true. At least, it was while Garth’s story time was in session. Everyone was in the storyroom and not crowding the rather spacious children’s area. But once storytime finished up, a stampede of shrill voices was released and Castiel had only hoped that Garth wouldn’t take too long gathering his things before returning to the Children’s reference desk.

His distress must play across his expression, because Garth laughs and slaps him on the back. “ It’s takes some getting used to. The noise, I mean.”

“ I was thinking more about the general chaos,” Castiel mutters as an infant in its caregiver’s arms knocks over a display of books. The caregiver never pauses in her relaying of the weekend’s activities to her friend, to attend to her child or to restore the display.

Minding the Children’s Desk is not one of Castiel’s favorite jobs. He’s much more comfortable on the Adult side of the building, helping the retirees gather their newspapers and the college students research their papers. It’s very quiet. Unlike the children’s side.

However, since coming to work here at Hunter Hollow Public library nearly a year ago, Castiel has found himself more and more often struggling to remember the author of _Love You Forever_ (Robert Munsch, and after refamiliarizing himself with it Castiel had to excuse himself for a break to get his emotions under control) and what juvenile fiction novels are appropriate for a second grader reading at an eighth grade level (that had entailed a hasty Google search and some frustrating compromises). Rowena MaCleod is Head Children’s Librarian, but she’s been traveling more and more since Castiel’s hiring and was delighted to suggest Castiel to cover for her absences and assist the recently graduated Children’s Librarian, Garth Fitzgerald IV.

To be honest, he greatly enjoys assisting the youngest patrons. They are straightforward in their requests and very often much more polite than their accompanying adults. The children have insightful questions and genuine enthusiasm when sharing their daily adventures with Castiel and even the infants seem to find something worthy in him if their wide eyed stares and toothless grins are anything to judge by.

But still, Castiel is happy to leave the cacophony of tired and hungry children and vapid caregiver conversations for the low hum of the adult side. He logs out of the computer and leaves Garth to handle the dwindling number of questions as patrons leave for lunches and nap times.

The noise recedes as Castiel steps through the staff door into the communal work area that bridges the adult and children’s sides of the library. He shares one largish corner with Garth, the younger man happily relinquishing half his space so the new hire wouldn’t have to sit at a tiny countertop next to the printer.

Garth’s side is an explosion of color and textures. It reminds Castiel a bit of a toy shop’s backroom. Stacks of papers and folders in no perceivable order, sheets of stickers poking out, various office supplies scattered everywhere but the carpet. In the spaces in between, games and toys for children’s programming, games and toys that are personal to Garth. And occupying the place of honor next to his laptop, slipped over a latex hand-shaped sex toy given as a gag gift last Christmas, is Garth’s beloved sock puppet, Mr. Fizzles.

In contrast, Castiel’s side is rather plain. Over the past year, he has gathered his own set of shelves and bins, and a filing system. His desk is butted head to head with Garth’s, a piece of plywood wedged between to give them a bit of privacy; the top edge, at eye level, is carved into the silhouette of a Bavarian forest, and painted a muted dark green; the piece leftover from a long ago production of puppet-led fairy tales. It makes a nice backdrop to his desktop and multilayer paper trays. And a single framed photo of himself with Claire and Jack, taken by Garth at the library’s Harry Potter Yule Ball celebration. Claire’s smile is a bit subdued, her Gryffindor robes heavily sprinkled with glitter from an art project. Jack’s bright gummy grin shines out of his tiny Hufflepuff robes. Castiel had worn a Ravenclaw tie, in deference to the occasion, his own smile somewhere between the children’s.

It’s Castiel’s most cherished possession.

He sits in front of it now and sends a text to Ambriel, asking after Jack. The antibiotics and Tylenol seemed to be doing their job for the week, but Castiel likes to check in when the kids aren’t one hundred percent.

The children have two young women who share the hours looking after them, and Castiel doesn’t know how he got so lucky. Ambriel and Lenore, sisters who share an apartment near the elementary school, are capable, funny, and kind, and attained an instant rapport with both Claire and Jack. The younger, Ambriel, is a full time biochemistry undergrad at MTSU. She watches Jack while Claire is at school during the mornings and every other Saturday when Castiel has his weekend shift. Her older sister, Lenore, works from their apartment an IT tech; she takes care of Jack in the afternoons and picks Claire up from the school just down the road. Together, they keep Claire and Jack happy and safe while Castiel is at work.

Castiel checks his work email and decides which of his projects to work on until his desk shift in half an hour as he waits for Ambriel’s reply.

_> >Doing great! Jack very alert and happy. Claire suddenly interested in woodworking?_

Attached is a photo of Jack playing with wooden blocks, Claire focused on a wood carving manual in the background. Castiel recognizes the book as a gift from their neighbor, but he honestly doesn't remember Claire packing it in her bag this morning. Well, there are worse things for the little girl to choose as a hobby.

He misses them suddenly. Very, very much. Castiel has moments like these from time to time. Sometimes at work, sometimes when out solo. Even before Jack came into the world, before they were both put into his care, Castiel would come across a particularly playful dog in the park and think how much Claire would love to pet it. Or sometimes, when he was alone in his apartment, the quiet settling too heavy and too late to call, Castiel would wish to hear her bubbling giggle and exasperated, “ _Silly Daddy!_ ”

But, right now he has another five hours of work; patrons to help and coworkers to deal with.

Like his boss, Zachariah Adler, who traipses into the work room with his usual smarmy smile, headed straight for Castiel’s desk. “ Good morning, Castiel! How was your time on the children’s desk? “

Zachariah is not interested in Castiel’s opinion of his work and Castiel answers accordingly. “ It was fine.” No more, no less. Either his boss will get to the point or lose interest in the obligatory conversation. Castiel is willing to hold out.

“ Good, good.” The balding man rubs his hands together, in a not quite maniacal way. More like a child imitating his favorite cartoon villain. “ You seem to be getting along over there. Garth speaks very highly of you.”

“ Garth speaks highly of everyone,” Castiel retorts.

“ Yes, well, regardless, we've heard nothing but great things about you and I just wanted you to know that we’ve noticed your hard work.” Zachariah pats Castiel's shoulder.

Not suspicious at all. Castiel remains rigid under the attention. He has an idea where this is going, but doesn't want to give Zachariah the satisfaction of playing along with his schemes. “ Thank you, sir.”

The older man continues as though Castiel never spoke. “ And we want you to know that whenever a more prominent position opens up, _whenever_ that might be, you’ll be top on our list to fill it.” Zachariah wanders around to Garth’s side of the space causing Castiel's hackles to rise at the invasion. “ For instance, Rowena isn’t nearly as young as she’d like everyone to believe and with her frequent absences we need someone responsible and with a certain _gravitas_ to step up to the plate.”

Oh yes, there it is. “ With all due respect sir,” Castiel begins evenly. “ Rowena is perfectly within her right to take scheduled leaves using the paid vacation time she’s _earned_ through the years. Her age is irrelevant. And Garth is more than qualified to complete her duties in her stead. “ He takes great joy in watching Zachariah’s smile slowly fall into a disgruntled thin lipped line.” And I am more than happy to assist him when needed.”

It’s an old conversation. Rowena is senior staff, having survived budget cut downsizing and personality conflict driven firings for the last forty years, whether by witchcraft or luck, she’s the one constant at Hunters Hollow Public Library. And Zachariah hates anyone he can’t control, so he is very keen on getting rid of the woman, by hook or crook. Which would leave Garth to step into her role and Zachariah doesn’t care for the young man’s sweet and messy nature. And with the appearance of Castiel, with his questionable celebrity status and office personality closer to what Zachariah approves of, the older man has mistakenly assumed that he’s found an accomplice in his petty mission to usurp Rowena from her rightful position.

Why anyone in their right mind would want to keep a sensationalist trash magnet in their employ is simply beyond Castiel. It was not helpful in his job search a year ago when he realized he wouldn’t be able to go back to Pontiac, potential employers afraid of the negative press that’s followed Castiel since the incident. Castiel had been at his wits end when Gabriel had forced a surprise meeting with their cousin, Michael, who suggested putting in an application and resume to a more distant cousin, Zachariah Adler, who manages the one and only library in the small community of Hunters Hollow. In true small town fashion, the entire government runs on nepotism and for once, Castiel can’t find a foot stand on in protest. He has two children depending on him and he needs a steady income, benefits, and hours.

And a year later, he’s still dealing with Zachariah’s atrocious ambition. But he’s getting paid, so Castiel soldiers on.

Zachariah, however, is nothing if not tenacious. He claps his hands together and regains his fake smile before sidling out of Garth’s area and back toward Castiel. “ We’ll just see how things turn out, yes? I’m off to have lunch with the mayor. Don’t want to keep her waiting.” With this last name dropping, Zachariah makes his exit and leaves the work room in peace.

Until Charlie enters from the adult side staff door, full totes on both shoulders and a large bin in her hands overflowing with costumes. Castiel jumps up to help, taking the heavy bin from the petite woman and hauling it to her desk in the corner opposite his and Garth’s; double sided, ceiling high shelf system separating their areas. Castiel places the bin on the floor in front of Charlie’s desk and then reaches for one of the bulging tote bags. “ Was it a good turnout?”

“ It was amazing! If the regulars hadn’t brought their own gear, I wouldn’t have had enough to pass around.” Charlie’s face is practically beaming, smile bright, eyes wide. Her enthusiasm is very contagious. “ I mean, a few always fall off as we go on, but we had nearly thirty kids today, so even if half drop off to do school activities, we’ll still have a nice size club. And if any of them want to join Moondoor then they have enough to form their own clan if they want.”

Castiel grins, idly poking through the tote he sets on the edge of Charlie’s very clean and organized desk, the eye of the pop culture memorabilia storm of her office. This bag is mostly tunics of various sizes and colors. LARPing isn’t something Castiel is particularly into, but he certainly understands its appeal, especially with the teens Charlie works with. It’s simply a more active escapism than his own preferred method of reading.“ I’m glad for that. I know Kevin and Krissy have been very excited to get started. And Becky has nearly exhausted our catalogue of medieval romances for her _research_.” He makes the quotation marks with his fingers, because it’s a quirk he never managed to unlearn from childhood.

“ Becky’s enthusiasm is great, but yeah, her focus on court trysts is kinda distracting, to be honest” Charlie tucks a loose strand of long red hair back into her braided crown- her only concession to her position as queen of Moondoor- and she’s chosen her woodland gear instead of her queenly regalia. It’s only a half day for her, the teen outreach complete once she puts away her LARP gear and gets the report started. Charlie drops the tote of foam swords on top of the costume bin. “ But, it takes all kinds and as long as she doesn’t actually start stalking the other players I try to give her some leeway.” She plops down into her desk chair and snags a post-it note from the rainbow stack next to her Hermione bobblehead. “ I’m marking my numbers, but I’m not starting the report because I saw Zachariah heading out and you and I both know he won’t be back today. So screw him.”

A chuckle escapes Castiel and he leaves her to it. He has his own programming to plan or finish up, depending on its place on his timeline. Currently he has two adult programs coming up in the next two weeks; _Canning Summer’s Bounty_ and _Hospice Help 101_. Both require him to send out final confirmation emails to the speakers, easy enough for him to do from the information desk. His adult programs in-progress include _Starting Your Own Apiary_ , a yoga series, and a mental health workshop led by his longtime friend, Meg Masters, a psych nurse at one of the major hospitals in Nashville. That research can also be done at the desk as long it remains predictably slow as Saturdays often are. Weekend patrons are more often there to either pick up their interlibrary loan holds or to set themselves up at one of the study tables for intense research.

With his folders in hand, Castiel strides through the staff door to the adult side and Aaron sitting at the adult desk. The younger librarian is silently playing solitaire on his computer. “ I’m here, Aaron.”

“ Thanks, man.” Aaron quickly exits out of his game, then saves his open documents. Castiel catches a glimpse of Jewish folktale websites and a genealogy chart. Aaron has recently become highly interested in his Jewish heritage and Castiel certainly can’t fault the young man for using the library’s resources to further his research. Or doing it on the clock. A quick glance around shows Castiel a typical Saturday crowd.

Frank is hiding in his corner with his laptop and science journals, muttering about Romans and processing plants. In the opposite corner where the floor to ceiling windows allow for maximum reading light, Marv is settled into an upholstered easy chair with a stack of global fairytales. Alicia and Max are clearing away their study items from a large table near Marv’s reading corner, the college students ready for a lunch break and possibly an afternoon at their mother’s new age shop in the downtown Hunters Hollow. Chuck has temporarily abandoned his usual post, a cluttered single person desk directly across from the adult desk against the far window wall, and is wandering the non-fiction aisles.

A few retirees with their newspapers in the easy chairs, the usual characters checking their dating profiles and recipes blogs at the computer bank, a steady stream of storytime attendees streaming toward the exit.

Aaron heads toward the back and Castiel takes his seat, ready for an hour of well deserved quiet time until Aaron relieves him for his own lunch break. He opens Outlook and pulls up his work email, sorting through the interoffice group emails that get sent _Reply All_ for no reason Castiel can see. There are at least three currently ongoing, the oldest has been making its rounds for five months. He’s fairly certain Aaron and Ash are the ones responsible for its longevity. Castiel deletes them out of hand; anything important will get back to him through the grapevine or Garth. There’s a schedule change request from one of the pages, Hael, due to class conflicts. Two are from Zachariah that he won’t even bother to open until tomorrow. Rowena has sent him- and Garth and Charlie according to the details- more photos of her holiday in Romania. A staff memo from Mayor Adler. A reminder about Labor Day closings. A reminder about the carpet cleaning next week.

And another message from _BDL_69@gmail.com_.

Castiel frowns, finger pausing over his mouse. He should delete the message, without opening it. He really should. He has been for a few months now, the same email address popping up in his inbox every week or so, randomly. Despite blocking it after the first four or five just out of irritation. The messages themselves weren’t anything special nor gave any hint to their sender; other than someone who has mistaken Castiel’s cryptic email address (he’d made sure his work email did not follow the typical government format in order to stem the flow of press inquiries and trolls) for someone they’re acquainted with.

_How are you today?_

_Good to see you again. You looked better than last time._

_We should get pizza tonight. I’m too tired to cook._

Strange, but not threatening, so he stopped reading them and sent them directly to the trash. And, yes, Castiel has noticed a slight uptick in frequency since then. Every other week, then one every week, and now he’s had three in the last week alone. He glances up from his computer screen, scanning the surrounding area. The patrons are in their own little worlds, no one seems to need his help with the printer or catalog.

So Castiel clicks on the email and his breath catches in his throat.

_I didn’t know you liked so much cream in your coffee, chief._

Castiel forces himself to swallow, to inhale and exhale quietly and steadily. It could be nothing. Except it’s his Saturday shift, and he always treats himself to the Starbucks across the street for breakfast. And, yes, he’d gone a little overboard with the cream today because he’d been distracted by thoughts of the attractive nurse practitioner. It’s nothing. Just a coincidence. Castiel stares at the simple line in the message for a full two minutes before opening his trash inbox and pulling up the previous emails from _BDL69@gmail.com_.

_That blue shirt looks amazing on you!_

_We should have coffee sometime._

_Sorry you were sick today :(_

There are over a hundred emails from the past eleven months, since the last time Castiel emptied his trash folder. Each one is something simple, only one or two lines, and implies an overfamiliarity with Castiel that has his nerves on edge. One or two could be considered a mistake. Managing to overcome the block could be considered a flaw in Outlook. But Castiel can no longer ignore this steady stream of messages growing more and more knowledgeable of his daily life.

It can’t be anything other than intentional.

It can’t be anyone who wishes him well.

A sudden thought explodes in his mind and he quickly re-reads each email, breath held tightly until he’s scanned them all, looking for any mentions of Claire or Jack. Castiel exits the last one and releases an unsteady sigh. It appears they’re only interested in him, not the children. So far. The thought causes a shiver to run through his entire body. He catches Chuck looking at him curiously. Castiel forces a quarter smile and turns back to his screen.

What should he do?

Reply? Ask who they are, what they want? That’s his first impulse, to demand answers from the source. It could just be some two bit reporter or paparazzi with a bad sense of humor. Irritating, but not necessarily dangerous.

Castiel doesn’t want to entertain any other alternative, but the fatalistic side of him points out that the very first ones began arriving just after the court denied Nick’s request for visitations with Jack. There’s a restraining order, of course. No contact whatsoever with Castiel or the children, minimum of one thousand feet distance at all times. But Nick has managed to wiggle his away around plenty of rules and laws and semi-threatening emails would be the least of his accomplishments.

The stalking is also heavily implied, though not outright written down. Making it harder for Castiel to prove that someone has indeed been watching him.

Castiel sits silently for several long minutes, debating the best strategy that doesn’t end up with him in jail for assaulting Nicolas Adler.

Chuck passes by the desk, smiling thinly at Castiel. Castiel does his best to return it and creates a folder in his work email, labeled BDL. He carefully drags each of the suspicious emails into the folder until all one hundred and seven are safely housed there. There’s another minute of contemplation, whether or not he should ask for Charlie’s assistance in tracing the sender back to its location. If anyone can do it, the redhead can, and with scary efficiency.

The desk phone rings, shaking Castiel from his thoughts and nearly causing him to knock his waterbottle over. He rights the bottle and takes a breath before answering the phone, scribbling out a reminder on a nearby post-it note to seek out Charlie on Monday.

 

**XOXOXOX**

 

Dean does not want to be up this early on his day off. Particularly on a Saturday. Particularly the Saturday morning following the first Friday of the month that is the clinic’s traditional karaoke night. It’s possible Dean had one too many Boilermakers with Pam. And maybe sang Queen’s Somebody to Love, if his memory is at all reliable. He’s fairly certain Alex will send him any cringe-worthy video.

But someone is knocking insistently on his bedroom door, chasing his precious shut-eye away. “ Ugh, wha’?” His voice is rough and Dean isn’t even sure if the person in the hall heard him. “ What?” He makes more of an effort and is rewarded with Sam’s head popping into his bedroom.

“ I’m calling in the solid you owe me from helping you move in.” Sam steps all the way into Dean’s room, expression harried.

Dean blinks is eyes open more fully and he realizes his brother is wearing a full monkey suit. Crap. “ Meeting?”

“ Yeah. Can you go with her?” Sam looks desperate and he has every right to be.

Dean flops onto his back, releasing a resigned huff of air. “ Yeah, yeah, just… give me, like, half an hour.”

Sam runs his hands through his hair, puppy dog eyes taken down a few notches with Dean’s acceptance. “ Thanks, really. I know she won’t skip a visit, but it really bothers me with how big she’s gotten. But I sure as hell didn’t want to say anything to her about it.”

Can’t argue with that. Dean waves a hand at his brother, blowing off the gratitude. “ I’m only doing it because of Jess and my niece-or-nephew-to-be. You still owe me a solid.”

“ Deal. I’ll be back after lunch.”

So he is now awake and up, for the sake of his very pregnant sister-in-law, and is being fairly reimbursed by large amounts of caffeine and whatever foodstuffs he chooses once they reach the farmers market.

And once he gets there, Dean has to admit that he enjoys the atmosphere. Not enough to regularly get up before the sun, but enough to hit up once or twice a month during season. And Jess has already made plans for the huge holiday market they hold each year in November.

He left his travel cup in the car and is quickly steered toward a food truck before entering the main grounds by Jess pulling on the strap of Dean’s duffel across his chest. With his second round of caffeine flowing through his veins, and an artisan bacon, egg, and cheese croissant filling his belly, Dean feels much more amenable to the sights and sounds around him.

It’s late summer, so there are the usual stalls filled to the brim with peaches and tomatoes and blackberries. And the random early pumpkin and squash that Jess is intent on buying up to use as decorations for the clinic. There are other things, of course, from potted mums to every handicraft imaginable. Dean watches with great amusement as Jess piles their rolling cart full as he drags it along behind her. Dean was convinced to bring his own ragged duffel and it’s already half full of various fruits for his pies and cobblers. And tons of business cards stored neatly in the zip pocket for his later perusal.

He’s a few steps behind Jess and with the crowd and her crazy high bun perched on top of her head, it’s hard for Dean to see too far ahead of them. And he’s pretty distracted by the booth of vintage vinyl on the other side of the path. He stops when Jess stops and attempts to crane his neck around to see what’s caught her attention. She’s at the very edge of a table covered in a quilt- handmade as far as Dean can tell- and covered in various containers ranging in size and shape, but all bearing the same logo of a tiny bee perched atop a fancified letter ‘C’. Upon closer inspection, as Jess moves through the crowd around the table, Dean can see the individual products. Soaps and lotions and candles. Tins of honeycomb and hard candy. And row upon row of stacked jars of golden honey.

Jess is oohing and awwing over basically everything. Dean is interested in the candy and honey filled jars which are just beyond his reach so he waits patiently as the vendor takes care of the customers ahead of Jess, his back turned to bag up their items. It’s pretty loud, with all the people and outside noises and kids playing not too far off in the park so Dean can forgive himself for not immediately picking up on the voice until it is aimed squarely at him. Or at least, right beside him.

“ Good to see you again, Dr. Moore. I’ve been saving my last two jars of lavender honey just for you.” The vendor smiles brightly at the woman.

“ You are a saint, Cain. I’ve had the most insane cravings for it.” Jess begins placing other items into her little pile at the front of the table. “ And it’s Jess when I’m not at the clinic.”

Dean can only stare at the man across the table, who has also paused in his work to stare back at Dean.

It’s been five years, and not much has changed about Cain Adamson. There’s more silver in the salt and pepper hair that is much longer than when Dean last saw him, the beard a bit fuller. A deepening of the crows feet around the still bright blue eyes. God, Dean really does have a type.

Then everyone is moving again. Cain ringing up and bagging Jess’s purchases while keeping up a steady stream of lighthearted conversation. Dean frowns as he feels something bang into his thighs from behind. He turns to find another customer, also loaded down with bags, shuffling along at the previous table, trying to squeeze into the tiny space between Dean’s back and the table selling herbal tea blends. He plants his feet firmly, out of spite, and turns his attention back to Cain’s table, pushing his items forward to the end near the till and taking Jess’s heavy bag before she can heft it.

“ Such a gentleman, Dean.” Jess laughs.

“ You know me,” Dean replies awkwardly, fitting the bag among their previous purchases in the cart. He’s avoiding eye contact, he knows this, but he can’t stop. Except he really should grow up and get through this like a well adjusted adult. “ You go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

“ You sure?” Jess glances back at him, absently dragging a wayward bra strap back up her shoulder.

“ Yeah, I’m getting a few more things.” Dean gives his sister-in-law his most charming smile and waves her on. Leaving him alone with his last long term relationship. Well, somewhat alone. There’s still a line of people behind him and they’re situated in a jam packed tent alley. He grabs something small from the top of a stack and adds it to his pile without looking at it, his eyes forced up to meet the other man’s. “ Hi.” Yep, smooth.

“ Hello.” Cain is looking at him with those soft eyes, then he quietly clears his throat and begins adding up the prices, hands steadily placing each container safely into a paper bag. “ How are you?”

“ Good, good.” Dean is still just staring. Christ, what is wrong with him? It’s been five fucking years. He’s an adult. He’s over this. “ You look good… I mean, it looks like you’re doing good.” Shutupshutupshutup! “Doing well.”

Cain smiles. “ Thank you. So do you… That’ll be thirty-five even.”

Dean hands over the last of his cash and dumbly watches as his ex-lover counts out his change and prints out a receipt from an ancient adding machine. The receipt goes into the bag and Cain folds the top over before handing it to Dean. “ I hope to see you again.” Soft blue eyes, soft smile.

It sounds so genuine, Dean wants so badly to believe it. He wants to ask Cain what happened. What he’s been up to. Dean wants to see if he’s grown as much as he thinks he has since their break up. Dean is also scared to do all those things, to mess up the delicate balance he’s managed to build up over the last few years. And he will mess it up. So fear keeps his mouth closed as he smiles and nods and walks away with his bag of honey and regrets.

Jess is only a stall ahead, Dean can see her curly blonde hair and rainbow printed tank top. Dean sidles up behind her, clutching his paper bag because it’s too crowded for him to maneuver it into his duffle. His head is filled with a mild buzzing, thoughts and emotions tumbling along unchecked.

Eventually Jess pokes him in the side with her elbow, gaining his attention. “ What?” There’s no telling what he’s missed in his daze.

“ You okay?” Jess frowns up at him, her hands full of wooden toys, highly polished and truly beautiful works of craftsmanship.

“ Yeah.” Dean nods and takes the toys, admiring them distantly before carefully wrapping them in a canvas tote and placing them on the cart. Jess’ attention is already taken by a table full of layered granola in mason jars. “ Hungry again.”

“ I know, right?” Jess slips her arm through his and steers him through the crowd. “ It smells way to good in here. I say we get second breakfast on the way out and head home for a nap.”

“ Good plan, boss.” Dean manages a smile for her. “ Where to?”

“ We’re hitting up the grilled cheese truck! Woohoo! ” Jess pumps her fist in victory She rubs her baby bulge and shifts the tote bag on her shoulder. Dean is quick to take it and add it to his own load. Jess laughs, but lets him, both shuffling closer to the outer ring of the market where the food trucks are parked in the baking sun.

Dean stops for a moment to reorder the things in his arms until everything is either stuffed in his duffel or Jess’s tote and both are slung over his shoulders and out of the way. It’s an odd time of morning and there’s only a couple people in front of them in line at the truck. When she steps up to the counter, Jess orders for them both and extra for Sam, then steps out of the way as Dean pulls out his wallet. He’s not making the pregnant lady pay for his food, thank you very much. He does however make her carry the bagged food, while he balances the drink carrier with 3 extra large fresh squeezed lemonades. Dean’s is already half empty, the straw never leaving his mouth until they reach Baby parked along the road.

It takes a moment to get everything stowed securely and the A/C to cool the interior enough for passing comfort. Jess passes Dean his food and the drive is mostly quiet, except for the radio playing a Fleetwood Mac block and the rustle of food papers.

When they get home, Dean unloads the car and shoos Jess inside for air conditioning and to put her swollen feet up. Fresh produce is stashed in the fridge and on the countertops, canned goods in the highly organized pantry. Jess’s baby items are placed in a single tote and brought to her as she holds court on the couch in the living room, surrounded by pillows and what’s left of her double decker grilled cheese (her drink long since guzzled and most of Sam’s, as well).

Dean leaves the bag from Cain’s table for last, eyeing it on the counter as he puts away his other purchases and begins pulling things from the kitchen shelves to make a blackberry cobbler.

He pulls the four pints of blackberries from his duffel and he’s faced once again with the bag from Cain’s table shoved into the very corner of the bag.Hidden. Out of sight, but not much out of mind. A glance around confirms he’s alone in the kitchen and Dean eases the bag from the duffel and opens it. He pulls out two jars of clover honey, a jar of cinnamon honey, and a packet of honeycomb candy that he remembers picking up. There’s also a small tin of honey lip balm that he vaguely remembers tossing onto his pile . But there’s another item in the bag as well; one he has no memory of selecting though he remembers looking over the collection of small mismatched glass jars arranged artfully on the table.

A candle, honey-cinnamon-bourbon, in a lidless half pint jar with a single star etched onto one side now sits in his hand. The label reads _First Kiss_.

Dean stares down at the item, certain he didn’t pick this out even at the height of his distraction, and wonders if maybe Cain added it as a gift. This idea is confirmed when Dean finds one of the familiar business cards taped to the bottom of the glass. He pulls it free and flips it over to find a message hastily written in Cain’s neat old lady scrawl.

_Coffee would be nice, but I understand either way._

A local phone number closes the message and Dean can feel his heart beating much too fast in his chest. It’s a simple message, very straightforward, without any romantic subtext, and even gives Dean an out.

Just coffee and catching up and isn’t that exactly what Dean wanted when they were face to face?

He lifts the candle to his nose and takes a big sniff. The scent is subtle, not overly sweet. Perfect. Cain knew exactly what Dean would like.

That sends a little pulse of warmth through Dean, and he’s not adverse to it. It’s been five years, he’s grown a lot and has been able to look back at their relationship with clearer eyes, see why it would’ve never worked and he can’t fault Cain for ending it before it got uglier for Dean. And now, studying the little candle in his hand, he asks himself, honestly, if this is something he wants to attempt. A friendship after a bad breakup. It’s something new, something he’ll probably have to put some effort into.

But rolling the idea around in his head doesn’t really spark any of those nasty emotions of old. Of course, he can’t verify any of it unless he takes Cain up on his offer of platonic coffee, can he?

Dean inhales, a big breath in through his nose, and lets it out slowly. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket and sends a text to the number on the back of the card.

_< < This is Dean. Coffee would be good, whenever you’re free_

He even double checks his spelling before sending it on its way. And then Dean busies himself with baking and cleaning and even an hour wiping down Baby to keep himself distracted from the silent phone in his back pocket.

Then he goes online and finds the Etsy shop printed on the business card. Dean is impressed by the products listed. Raw honey, infused honey, beeswax candles and lip balms, handmade wooden bee decor. There’s a brief moment when Dean’s feelings swarm together and knot up uncomfortably. There’s sympathy and loss and even the ghost of jealousy as he reads over the description of Cain’s lemon verbena infused honey, lovingly labeled _Colette’s Favorite_. He lingers on the page for long moments, then gets a grip and starts looking through the candles.

It's nearly three o'clock that afternoon when Deans phone buzzes, scaring the crap out of him as he dozes in his room, faded copy of _Christine_ fallen open on his chest. The phone nearly vibrates itself off his nightstand and Dean grabs it from the edge. Cain’s number pops up with a blank face icon. Dean stares at the screen, swallowing thickly. He can still back out, but… Dean opens the message before he can stall any more.

_> > Mt Juliet Starbucks, tomorrow @9? _

Dean knows the location. Its near the I-40 ramp in a weirdly well off area that Sam has mentioned has been growing rapidly over the past couple of decades. Dean’s hit it up a few times on his way to the interstate. He types back an affirmative reply and only hits send after deleting a smiley face emoji quickly followed by a coffee emoji and finally settles on a colon and right parentheses. Like the dork he is.

Christ, he’s getting hit in the heart too many times this week. Okay, Monday’s sudden crushing on Castiel Novak can't really compare to a three year serious relationship with Cain, but still, Dean would like to fall back into a peaceful, no entanglements headspace.

 

___**tbc…** _ _ _


	3. Heavy Stuff for a Starbucks on a Sunday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets with Cain and Cas has a nighttime visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments!!!

**Chapter 3: Heavy Stuff for a Starbucks on a Sunday Morning**  
**August 2018  
Sunday**

The next morning is just as hot and humid as the one before. Dean briefly wonders if he’ll ever get used to the humidity here. Heat, he can handle, but this oppressive moistness is just shitty. And according to Sam it starts as early as March and sometimes lingers well into September. Sometimes even October. 

But he has other things to worry about this bright morning. Like what to wear. Which is stupid because Cain has seen him in and out of everything from ratty sweats and undershirts to a full tux in Sam’s wedding pictures. So after pulling everything from his closet and throwing it all haphazardly across the bed, Dean finally chooses a decent pair of dark jeans ( no wear-n-tear tear, natural or artful) and his favorite Batman t-shirt because it's practically become a security blanket by now. 

He nearly runs into Jess in the hallway outside the bathroom, the blonde still sleep rumpled and dazed. “ Dean?”

“ Yep. Good morning to you.” He steps aside to let her into the bathroom, but she continues to stand in the hall, confused and squinty eyed. 

“ What time is it?” 

“ About eight thirty.” 

Jess wrinkles her nose. “ Why are you up?” 

Okay, so he normally sleeps in pretty late on his days off, but that’s no reason for the suspicious tone. Dean rolls his eyes and gently guides the woman into the bathroom. “ Because. Now do your preggo stuff and let me get by.”

She doesn’t resist and Dean heads on down the hall into the kitchen, where Sam is making breakfast. The younger Winchester looks up from the frying pan when Dean enters the room. “ Usual three eggs?” 

Honestly, Dean doesn’t think he can stomach anything at the moment, the nerves from yesterday morphing into a tight little ball of worry in his gut. He shakes his head and waves a hand at the skillet. “ Going out, but thanks anyway.” 

“ Kinda early for you.” Sam observes, raising a brow. “ Anything special?”

“ No, just some errands.” Dean doesn’t know why he doesn’t just tell Sam the truth. Maybe because he was never too forthcoming about Cain when they were together and now he doesn’t want to deal with this whole protective little brother schtick or talk about his feelings when there’s really nothing to talk about until after he sees how this little catch-up is going to go. 

Sam eyes the nicer than average jeans, but doesn’t remark any further. He nods, floppy hair swinging over his eyes before he brushes it back behind his ears. “ ‘Kay, we’ll see you at lunch? About two?” 

“ Yeah, I’ll be back by then.” Dean grabs his keys from the basket near the back kitchen door and waves over his shoulder before stepping out into the heat. 

It’s a fairly quick drive, the Sunday traffic sparse this time of morning. The Starbucks in question is part of a strip mall next to a hotel, so tends to be busy, but not too crowded, though the drive thru is currently wrapped around the building. Dean feels sorry for the window attendant. He parks Baby in a far corner of the small lot, taking a moment to check his phone before exiting the car. There’s one missed text - because Dean absolutely does not text and drive- from Cain, letting Dean know that he’s already in the store and at a table. 

Dean doesn’t even hesitate this time. 

He locks up the Impala and strides across the hot asphalt towards the left end unit of the stripmall. Cain is sitting in a corner window, staring down at the lidless paper cup in his hands, as though the still liquid inside has all the answers. It’s such a beautifully familiar sight and something in Dean pushes the apprehension aside. It doesn’t disappear, it’s still there at the back of his mind, but this whole thing is much more doable. Dean thinks he might even enjoy it.

He proceeds up the sidewalk and pauses at the spot where Cain has still not looked up, to tap briskly on the window. Cain doesn’t jerk or startle. He merely raises his head and smiles at Dean through the glass. 

Yeah, this is going to be a good day. 

Dean throws a smile back and moves on to the front door. The blast of air conditioning is almost too much on his sweaty skin. A glance in Cain’s direction and they exchange tiny nods of acknowledgement, then Dean continues on to the counter to place his order. A grande (because he doesn’t need too much stimulation right now) cold brew (because it’s too freaking hot). He eyes the assorted sandwiches and pastries, but his stomach still doesn’t feel fully settled. Best to pass this time. 

He does however, hit up the additions station. And because it’s a big morning for him, he splurges on a splash of half and half and what the hell, a sprinkle of cinnamon. Dean’s pretty sure he’s read somewhere that cinnamon is supposed to be good for digestion or something. 

And now there’s nothing left to do but approach the table and sit opposite the ex-love of his life. 

“ It’s good to see you, Dean.” 

“ You, too.” 

There’s a long moment and they just look across the table, drinking each other in, which should be creepy but Dean kinda likes the frankness of it. He’s never had to hide from Cain, never could hide from Cain. And now, it's just two friends cataloguing the differences, physical and otherwise. 

“ I like the beard,” they compliment in unison, breaking the quiet together with soft laughter. Cain smooths the hair over his chin. Dean nervously tugs at his own whiskers. 

Cain is the first to start over, pushing a wax paper envelope toward Dean. “ I wasn’t sure if you’d eat something beforehand, but I bought an extra croissant. If you’d like.” 

“ Thanks.” Dean mumbles quietly, accepting the offering. He plays with the edge of the wrapper, then decides that he really shouldn’t pour an entire cup of coffee onto a nervous empty stomach and that the butter and carbs will work in his favor. He tears off a hunk of still warm croissant and shoves it into his mouth. It’s delicious, of course. Dean chews quickly, in order to get out, “ And thanks for the candle.”

“ I’m glad you liked it.” Cain smiles his soft smile and sips his drink. No sugar, a heavy pour of milk, not cream. Dean still remembers.

“ It drove Jess crazy.” Dean laughs. “ She kept asking if I was hiding a pie in my room.” It had been a bit annoying, but mostly hilarious. A heightened sense of smell is apparently one of Jess’s new pregnant superpowers. 

“ I must admit I was surprised to see you with Dr. Moore, though I suppose it had to happen eventually.” Cain sighs quietly. 

That never really occurred to Dean before, and by god it should have. “ Did… did you know that Sam was my brother?” Cain had to have seen Sam with Jess before, lugging around the rolling cart and drooling over jarred granola. 

Cain levels Dean with a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me stare. “ Dean, nearly every single photo you owned was of Sam. And you delighted in showing them off, so yes, while I wasn’t certain of his surname, I was reasonably sure that he was the older version of the younger brother you so doted on.” 

Dean takes that information in. “ You didn’t say anything to him?” Maybe this is a bit heavy to start off with. In a Starbucks. On a Sunday morning.

There’s a long pause and Dean can see Cain taking his time to correctly word his answer. It comes out evenly, despite the slight hint of uncertainty in Cain’s gaze. “ I didn’t think it was appropriate, honestly. I wasn’t sure how much he knew about our relationship. Or if you wanted the reminder.” 

Dean also takes this in. It’s completely valid. Due to a variety of circumstances, Dean had kept his relationship with Cain on the down low. Everyone knew Dean was seeing someone, but were very scarce on the details. And they did not part on good terms, despite how hard Cain had tried to keep it civil. Dean had been in way too deep, had been too hurt to salvage anything from the ashes. That’s on him. “ I doubt any time before this would’ve been a good time, so yeah… I understand.” Definitely too heavy for Starbucks on a Sunday morning. If they manage to rekindle a friendship then they can deal with the details of the past at some later date. For now, Dean thinks it’s probably best to stick to the present. He clears his throat and blatantly changes topics. “ So, your website is awesome. I can’t believe you actually pulled off the whole beekeeper thing.” 

Cain’s smile is back, full of affection and enthusiasm. “ Yes, well. It keeps me busy and I enjoy the work.” 

And for the next hour they talk about Cain’s bees and his business and his recent travels. They talk about Dean’s patients and Baby and getting ready for the little Winchester coming soon. And everything feels normal again. 

“ You should visit the farm and take some things back for your sister-in-law.” Cain finishes off his coffee. 

“ She’ll be extorting all sorts of stuff from me.” Dean snorts. “ She’s already eaten half a jar of that lavender honey. Poured it all over a slab of bread and had it after she’d eaten dinner _and_ dessert.”

Cain laughs at that, fingers curling around his empty cup. “ She is eating for two. It may be indelicate of me to ask, but when is she due? I have a few things at the house that she may find useful once the baby is here.” 

“ Not til October.” Dean takes another bite of croissant and slurps his coffee. He’s already feeling hungrier. “ I’ve got til then to find an apartment. I mean, best case scenario, I’m out before the baby’s born so I’m not crashing on the couch and I can actually get some sleep. “ He snickers around another buttery mouthful. “ Otherwise I have the feeling I’ll end up being the night nanny.” When Dean looks up from licking his fingers, he finds Cain deep in thought. He worries, briefly, if maybe the finger licking went too far. It hadn’t been intentional. 

Cain seems to come to a decision and takes a good breath before speaking. “ I have a place you could rent and--” he raises a hand to stop any protest. “ And this is not a romantic overture or some attempt at reliving the past, I promise. I have a house that I’m currently renting to a single parent family, but there’s an apartment attached. It’s not far from your brother and sister-in-law. I do live on the property, but on the opposite side, at the lakefront, so there is plenty of … space. This is a favor, between friends.” 

Dean sits dumbly, taken completely aback by the sudden offer. He believes Cain about it being a favor between friends and the reality of actually being able to be friends with Cain is starting to sink in a little in Dean’s slow brain. But practicalities first. “ What about the family? They don’t know me from Adam. Will they be okay with a strange man living next door?” He says it like a joke, but he’s very serious about it. Dean isn’t about to make some single mom uncomfortable with her kids playing in the yard because of him, and he doesn’t blame any parent for being wary of strangers around their kids. 

Cain gives a small satisfied nod, obviously happy with Dean’s thoughtfulness. “ I’ll speak with them about it, but I believe my word will be enough to vouch for your character.” He taps the sides of his cup in thought. “ In fact, they might appreciate another neighbor close by. My cabin is out of sight and hearing from the main house, so you’d be the closest in case of any emergencies.” 

Okay, a bit weird to mention, but logical. Dean nods and knocks back the rest of his coffee. “ I’ll talk to Sam and Jess about it today.”

“ Anytime you’re free this week, text me and I’ll give you a tour before you decide.“ Cain’s smile is interrupted by his phone beeping insistently in the table at his side. “ I’m so sorry, Dean. That’s my reminder for an appointment with another vendor. “

Dean checks his own phone, the time surprising him. “ Didn’t even realize we’d been talking so long.” He did actually have some errands to run before heading back to the house. “ Time flies, and all that jazz.”

They both stand and clear their places of trash before leaving the store. Dean holds the door open for Cain, he has no idea why except that Cain always used to hold the door for him when they were together. The sun is higher, hence the temperature has risen into the high eighties and the humidity is practically visible in the air. Dean’s t-shirt is already damp under his arms. They walk towards the edge of the parking lot, Cain making a broad gesture toward an old brown Jeep parked a few spots away from Baby. Dean automatically leans left toward the Jeep and they continue in companionable silence until they reach the Jeep’s driver’s side door. Cain pulls his keys free from his pocket and turns to Dean. 

Dean doesn’t even hesitate. He leans in and wraps his arms around the man’s waist and squeezes, hooking his chin over Cain’s shoulder. Cain immediately returns the embrace, arms curling around Dean, hands pressing flat and firm on his back. It’s a solid hug, without words. Reaffirming the mutual affection and respect they thought was lost so long ago. Confirming this second chance. 

Dean gives two manly pats to Cain’s back and pulls away, avoiding eye contact for the first second before getting out, “ I’ll text you this week.” 

Cain smiles gently at him- god, so his fucking type- and opens the Jeep door. “ I’ll speak with my other tenant and tidy up the apartment.” 

There are no goodbyes or see you laters. They both smile and get into their respective vehicles and go about their day. 

**XOXOXOX**

It’s half past eight at night and Castiel has Jack bathed and ready for the last story before his bedtime. The trio is happily settled in their living room listening to a deep sleep music CD and finishing up with Claire’s current favorite bedtime story, _Goodnight Lab_. 

“ Can I have a lab for Christmas? Just a small one?” Claire questions as Castiel puts the book back into the basket next to the couch. 

Castiel shifts Jack against his side, the boy blinking sleepily. “ We’ll see. I thought you wanted a sword and shield like Charlie’s for Christmas.” Misdirection has become one of Castiel’s most valuable parenting techniques. 

Claire’s mouth turns down into a thoughtful pout. “ Well,” she begins in that tone that Castiel has come to learn means he’s about to be hit with a bit of inarguable child logic. “ You could get me the sword and shield for Christmas and get me the lab for my birthday.” 

Ah, yes. Castiel can’t help but smile down at his daughter, hand tugging gently at her long blonde braid that he is very proud to have nearly mastered after three years. “ Very true. We’ll see how that works out.” In fact, he has already asked Charlie for assistance in choosing a LARP level costume and set of gear for the little girl, so Castiel makes a mental note to add _science lab_ to the ongoing birthday list he keeps on his cellphone. Jack’s list is mostly building toys and books. 

He hefts himself up from the couch, again re-adjusting his hold on Jack who has completely given up the ghost, so to speak, his head lolling bonelessly on Castiel’s shoulder. The toddler is still recovering, so Castiel doesn’t let the easy bedtime bother him too much. “ Claire?” He waits until the girl looks up from her next story selection before continuing. “ I’m going to put Jack to bed. Go ahead and get ready for your bath.” 

“ ‘Kay.” She saunters off ahead of her father, toward the hall bathroom. 

Castiel follows Claire and turns right at her left to enter the bedroom the children share. The Batman symbol nightlight is already glowing steadily when he enters the dim room, shuffling forward to Jack’s small bed in the corner. The toddler rail is up and firmly in place, the pale green fitted sheet bare of other bedclothes. As a nervous father, Castiel had fully embraced pajamas and napsacks in lieu of blankets for his youngest charge. Tonight’s summer weight nap-sack is a gaudy undersea print chosen by Claire. Castiel manages to wiggle Jack into the oversized sack and get it zipped up without waking the boy. 

It’s moments like this, in the quiet dark, staring down at Jack’s long lashes shadowing over chubby cheeks and the dark golden wave flopped back from his forehead, the gentle rise and fall of his little chest as he breathes evenly… Sometimes the horrors of his past and the great weight of his new responsibilities come crashing down on Castiel and he has to swallow back the tears before Claire catches him out. 

And sometimes, like tonight, there’s nothing but immense awe and an overwhelming rush of love. 

Castiel bends down to brush a kiss across Jack’s cheek. “ Sweet dreams, Jack,” he whispers into the fine hairs above the boy’s ear. “ I love you, very much.” 

“ Dad?” 

Castiel straightens up at Claire’s urgent whisper from the doorway, a glimpse showing she’s still dressed in today’s clothes. Three long strides and he’s in the hall, pressing down on the automatic panic response bubbling up in his chest. “ What’s wrong?” 

“ Nothing, but Mr. Cain is here.” Claire points back down the hall toward the kitchen. 

Damn, he wasn’t watching the time. Castiel walks ahead of Claire and spots the back of Cain’s head over the cafe curtain in the back door. He’s expecting his landlord, so his appearance isn’t a complete surprise, Castiel simply let the bedtime rituals get away from him and now Cain is standing on his porch amidst the moths and June bugs swarming about the security lights. Castiel unlocks the door and opens it wide, apologies ready to spill out, except his daughter beats him to it. 

“ Sorry you had to wait with the bugs, but I’m not ‘llowed to open the door for people,” Claire pipes up, looking very regal in her Queen Elsa dress and braids, her hand out for a shake which has become a new thing with her. 

Cain takes it in stride, coming in to let the door shut behind him, and squatting down to be on level with the girl. “ I know and I completely understand. Thank you for your very prompt response.” His big paw carefully envelopes Claire’s tiny mitt and gives a very business like shake. 

Claire nods in satisfaction at the exchange and glances between the two men. “ Do you have grown up things to talk about?” Obviously angling to join in. 

“ Nothing age-inappropriate, but as always, I defer to your father’s excellent judgement.” Cain stands, tilting his head toward Castiel, straight faced serious expression barely betrayed by the upward quirk of his mouth. 

Castiel sighs, looking down at Claire’s expectant face. _Daddy’s Girl_ immediately springs to mind, as it often does. “ Go brush your teeth and use the bathroom first, then we’ll see.” He cups his palm over the top of her head and gives a nudge toward the hallway. Claire heaves a sigh, but does as she’s instructed. Castiel waits until he hears the bathroom door close before turning back to his guest. “ I’m sorry. I completely forgot what time it was.” He leads the older man to the kitchen table and its thickly cushioned chairs and busies himself with drinks. 

Cain settles easily into one, shaking his head. “ I should have texted you before I headed up. Like you, the time simply got away from me.” He smiles gratefully at the glass of herbal tea set in front of him, poured cold from the fridge in deference to the late summer heat. “ I hope I didn’t interrupt bedtime.” 

Castiel takes his own glass and sits opposite, one ear listening closely to the goings on in the bathroom. “ Not at all. Jack went down easier than usual and Claire technically has another half hour.” He sips his tea and pauses at the toilet flush. The sound of running water begins and Castiel gives his attention back to Cain. “ So, in your text this morning, you wanted to ask me about someone moving into the apartment.” It’s been at the back of his mind all day, mulling it over. “ I have to admit that I’m hesitant.” 

“ Of course, I certainly don’t blame you, Castiel.” Cain wrinkles his brow, sincerity marking his expression. “ This is a favor for an old friend, but I wouldn’t even have suggested it if I didn’t completely trust the person in question.” His fingers rub lightly around the rim of the cup. “ I’ve known him for some years and he is, quite honestly, one of the best men I’ve ever known in my life.” His blue eyes level Castiel head-on. 

Castiel takes a moment to let that sink in. In Castiel’s experience, Cain is not the most trusting of people. There’s a reason the entire property is fenced and lighted and under constant surveillance. It was one of the deciding factors in moving here. And Castiel honestly believes in Cain’s determination to protect him and his family. The older man had taken to Claire and Jack as quickly as the children had become enamored of him. As for this possible tenant, well, the only other person Castiel has ever heard Cain speak so highly of is his deceased wife, Colette. 

So if this new person has Cain’s seal of approval, there’s not much Castiel can say against it. He tightens his hold on the glass, feeling the chilled surface grow damp against his fingers, them releases it. “ I trust your judgment, Cain. When will this person be moving in?” 

“ This coming Saturday, if he signs the rental agreement. Though I’ll be handing over a key before that, so he might stop by during the week to unload some things. “ Cain’s smile is back in full force, and he drains his tea in a long gulp. “ If you don’t see him before then I will definitely make proper introductions Saturday.” 

“ Who’s coming on Saturday?” Claire practically apparates at Castiel’s side. She blows minty breath into his face as she waits for his answer. 

Castiel nods his approval of her teeth brushing and pulls out the chair between Cain and himself for her to hop onto. “ A new neighbor will be moving into the apartment.” 

“ Awwwww, you mean it can’t be my lair anymore?” Claire lets her head thump dramatically onto the table. 

Cain nearly bursts out laughing, but manages a few coughs instead. Castiel rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “ What have you been using as a lair? It’s all locked up. And you better not have been sneaking inside, young lady.” 

Claire’s head shoots up, indignant look blazing across her face. “ I’m not a thief, Dad! I’m a knight! Knights don’t sneak!” 

“ So where exactly has the knight made her lair?” Cain interposes. 

“ Up top where the pokey bushes are.” Claire says matter of factly. 

It takes Castiel a moment to visualize the spot, then frowns. “ Those are holly bushes. Is that why you’ve been so scratched up this summer?” 

Claire nods and Cain chuckles. “ I’ll keep that in mind when I’m trimming the hedges tomorrow. And I’ll talk to my friend, but I don’t think you’ll have to abandon your stronghold.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Cain.” Claire bobs her head, then turns to her father. “ I’m going to wait on the couch for you, Dad.” She slips from the chair and tosses a, “Goodnight, Mr. Cain,” over her shoulder before leaving the room. 

Cain grins, pushing his chair back and standing as Castiel responds in kind. “ Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He steps to the door and turns back to meet Castiel’s gaze. “ Thank you, for this. I know Dean will be very happy when I give him the news.” 

“ Not a problem. You’ve done so much for us.” Castiel smiles back, watching Cain open the back door and step out onto the porch. They exchange goodnights and Castiel locks back up; knob, deadbolt one and dead bolt two. Then a quick moment at the punchpad near the door jamb, security code entered and alarm system set. He’ll double check all the other locks in the house before he retires, each window and door, even though the kitchen door is the only portal in the entire house that is used, every other point of entry locked tight and left alone. 

True to her word, Claire is sitting on the couch with a book from the bedtime basket in her lap. She looks up when Castiel comes into the room and puts it back. “ I hope our neighbor is nice.” Claire again heads toward the bathroom. 

“ I’m sure he will be.” Castiel again follows her, hoping to put off his misgivings with some online smartphone shopping while Claire is in the bath. “ Mr. Cain wouldn't let anyone come here to hurt us, so this person must be very nice indeed.” 

__**tbc…** _ _


	4. Twilight Zone Levels of Coincidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean moves into his new place. Cas gains a new neighbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments!!!

**Chapter 4: Twilight Zone Levels of Coincidence**  
**August 2018  
** Saturday  


Dean swings by Tuesday on his lunch break to check the place out. 

It's perfect.

Cain had said it belonged to Colette’s parents, that his late wife had inherited it upon their death and he upon hers. Dean is certain they must’ve had some money back in the day because the surrounding hundred or so acres of lakefront property also came through Colette’s family and he’s been told this is only one of several of the buildings on the property. 

Built post-war in the 50’s, the ranch home sits split level on a sharp rise of earth more than a mile from the main road. It’s the very definition of rambling and Dean can already imagine the bowling alley like hallways inside. Outside it looks like any number of other post war homes in the more well-to do area; dark stone face below lighter gray vertical wooden planks, asymmetrical exaggerated eaves overhanging sets of narrow shutterless windows. A stone and steel carport extends from the near side of the house, closest to the main drive. 

What really churns Dean’s butter though is the far side of the house; the split level that makes up his future apartment. The bottom level is a spacious two car garage ( though he quickly learns the garage door slides horizontally, effectively making it a very roomy one car garage and workshop). Built atop the garage is the house’s most distinguishing feature in Dean’s opinion; a rounded window wall, floor to ceiling glazing curving around to give amazing views of the surrounding woods, with a tilted saucer shaped roof perched on top.

Inside the apartment meets Dean’s needs perfectly. Cain built a small addition to the back of the rounded turret seven years ago when he’d intended on living in the apartment himself while renting out the rest of the house. It contains a small but functional kitchen that opens up into the original footprint where a dining nook has been stolen from a corner of the original bathroom and an ill placed hall closet. The nook opens up onto the Conservatory as Dean has dubbed it, which is big enough for a couple seating areas if he Tetrises it right. The original hallway opens in the center of the Conservatory’s back wall and leads to the one and only bathroom on the right, the master bedroom on the left, and dead ends at a stacked washer and dryer behind retro folding doors. Cool grays and white trim, original hardwood floor stained dark walnut. It suits Cain to a T and Dean asked why the man hadn’t moved in after putting so much effort into the place. 

_” I did. For a week.” The older man shakes his head, running a hand along a curved sill. “ It simply wasn’t my home any longer. And I’d already started thinking about renovating the old fishing cabin... “ Cain smiles and shrugs before showing Dean down into the garage._

Cain has a rental agreement drawn up and Dean signs it, then and there. 

Saturday morning finds Dean driving Cain’s old ford F150 with Jess riding shotgun, Sam in the bitch seat between them. Dean and Jess barely manage to keep from laughing the whole way to the new place at Sam’s knees practically around his ears. Baby is parked at Cain’s house, waiting patiently for Dean to return and tuck her safely away in his new garage. 

He hasn’t met his immediate neighbors yet, their schedules don’t seem to align very well. Dean isn’t worried though, he knows Cain wouldn’t set him up in a place that has rowdy kids and careless renters. 

Dean flips his blinker to turn onto the private road and he snickers at Jess and Sam’s oohs and aahs. A high chain link fence, partially covered in honeysuckle and backed by trees, edges the property and a high, very unpretty, but very sturdy, electric gate bars the path. Dean pulls up to the utility box set into a crumbling stone post on the driver’s side and punches in his code. An equally decrepit stone lion stares down at them, its twin across the way, matching mouths open wide in toothless roars. 

Jess is the first to break the quiet. “ This is where Cain lives?”

“ Is he like some kind of doomsday prepper or something?” Sam’s head is ducked to look out of Jess’ window. 

Dean can’t laugh too much at them; he’d had the same reaction the first time he’d driven over Tuesday. He watches as the gate slowly, but smoothly, slides open. “ He just really likes his privacy.” 

“ What about emergency vehicles?” Jess asks.

“ The Rutherford County emergency services have the code. “ Dean waits for the gate to open completely before pulling through at a good clip, and waits for the closing process to complete before pulling away. “ I’ll ask Cain about giving it to y’all, but I have a feeling he’d prefer not to spread it around too much.” He tilts an apologetic look at Sam. “ I can buzz you in though. It’s the bottom righthand button on the security pad.” 

“ I can understand that.” Sam nods. “ We’ll just make sure to text you ahead of time.”

“ Suck. No surprise visits,” Jess whines from the other side, her arm stuck out of the open wide window. Both windows are fully lowered, Cain’s truck not having any working A/C to speak of. 

Dean has his arm propped along the edge of his open window, hand drooping inside. He steers the truck and trailer carefully around the bends, not wanting any oncoming traffic to surprise him, not that it’s likely, but he’s overly cautious since the wreck. The road itself is gravel, but well maintained. Not a pothole to be seen in the wide limestone river meandering through the cedar and poplars. A mile in the road splits, Dean continues right but gestures to the left with his elbow. “That goes to Cain’s cabin and the dock. “ 

It’s another mile and a half before they come upon the house sitting pretty among the trees. He spots a champagne gold monstrosity parked under the carport on the right and hopes that’s not his neighbor’s main source of transportation. He also notices a little face pressed against his neighbor’s front window, young and blonde and blatantly curious about the new arrivals. Dean pulls toward the left, toward his side, and pauses to let Jess and Sam out so they can help him back the trailer up to the garage. 

Cain comes out to watch the proceedings and converse with Jess while Sam helps guide the trailer into place. When Dean hops out, he can already sense a smidge of weirdness between Sam and Cain. Little Brother is just as protective as Big Brother and Sam had seen the massive fallout from their break-up. He still remembers Dean drunk, angry, and incredibly hurt by the man he was in love with. The man who has been selling organic honey and candles to Sam for the last couple years. It’s a bit weird to be sure, but Dean bumps his shoulder against Sam’s, throws a hand over the back of his neck and drags him over to the older man and young woman. 

“ Official introductions.” Dean lets his hand drop so he can clap them together in very much not a nervous gesture. “ This is my kid brother, Sam. And his awesome wife, Jess.” He takes a breath, lets it out in a nervous huff. “ And this is Cain.” He doesn’t add ex, or friend, or man who broke his heart. They know their history now, no need to go into the messier details. 

Cain smiles and reaches out to Jess first. They shake hands, then he turns to Sam and there’s an extra layer of sincerity in his expression, an extra firmness in his grip. “ Dean has always spoken very highly of you.” 

Dean watches as his brother and ex shake hands. Sam actually blushes, his hand pausing in the shake, before tightening his hold and replying, “ Thanks, I’ve heard lots of good things about you, too.” 

Cain laughs, but accepts the compliment graciously. They break apart and begin plotting out the best way to get the furniture upstairs; through the garage’s narrow staircase or up the wider yet uneven stone steps along the side. 

They finally decide the stone steps are less likely to end up with property damage and begin taking Dean’s bed and dresser. Jess starts unloading lighter boxes into the garage, while the men curse and sweat and eventually get Dean’s very limited furniture into the house. 

For the whole hour, Dean has been acutely aware of the blurry little face watching him in the window. Halfway through, it was joined by a smaller face with shorter darker gold curls. 

When they’re down to just boxes, and nothing anyone is comfortable with Jess lifting, they send her inside to begin unpacking as they haul in the heavier items. Some go straight into the garage for Dean to deal with later. Others, like his DVDs and gaming systems, his books and, oh yeah, his dishes, climb the stone steps and enter his front room kitchen combo. 

Dean is just coming down the stairs to help Jess pick through what’s left on the trailer when he’s stopped by a girlish exclamation. 

“ Dr. Jess!”

He hops the last two steps and lands with a crunch of gravel. Jess is standing near the cab of the truck, wide eyed surprise and laughter, a small girl with long Daenerys style braids wrapped around her legs. 

“ Dean?”

“ Cas?” 

A few steps away, holding a jug of lemonade and a stack of multicolored plastic tumblers, are two familiar faces; Castiel Novak and Jack. Holy crap, this is Twilight Zone levels of coincidence. 

“ Pop!” Jack interjects, pointing excitedly at Dean. 

Dean is still standing at the bottom of the stairs when Sam bumps into him from behind, big voice booming into his ear. “ Mr. Novak? Dean didn’t tell me you were his new neighbor. ” 

“ Sam?” Cas looks just as flabbergasted as Dean feels. 

Sam shoves past Dean and strides across the drive, hand already sticking out, broad smile beaming at the little family group. “ It’s been awhile. How are all of you?” 

That little gesture seems to snap Cas from whatever inner thought processes had him frozen up. There’s that slump of shoulders, a relaxing of his entire stance as he happily accepts Sam’s hand in a firm shake. “ We’ve been well, Sam. Busy, but well. Thank you.” There’s a small but genuine looking smile on his face as he gently corrects. “ And, please, call me Castiel. What you did for us…” Cas trails off, at a loss for words. 

But Sam waves it off. “ My job, remember?” 

Cas rolls his eyes, contrary. “ You came to our apartment with Happy Meals when I couldn’t make a meeting because Claire was sick. I don’t believe that was part of your job description.” 

“ Well, I, mean…”

“ And you referred us to Dr. Moseley’s clinic.”

“ That could’ve been construed as self interest, considering my wife works there.” 

“ Just accept the damn gratitude, babe.” Jess smacks Sam on the arm, hard. Then turns to Cas. “ The card Claire made him is still in his office with his other kid gifts. He loves it.” 

“ Have you seen Gabriel’s office lately?” Sam counters with a big grin. “ You know he’s redone the whole space and now that entire wall behind his desk is nothing but personal mementos. And most are photos of you and him together.”

Castiel is also smiling, though smaller and more exasperated. “ I’ve seen it. It’s actually rather embarrassing, but as the youngest siblings we were stuck with each other as children and still spend most of our holidays together. “

“ My favorite is the one from last Christmas. With Gabe dressed as Santa and you and the kids sitting in his lap.” Sam is laughing now.

“ Dear God, that was so awkward.” Cas sighs heavily, but the smile is still there.

Sam’s grin grows. “ He has a poster sized framed copy of it right behind his desk, where the poker dogs used to be.”

“ Well, that’s new.” Cas laments. “ I prefer the poker dogs, honestly.”

Dean steps forward because he’s been silently listening in to the entire conversation, letting his thoughts settle before he blurts out something stupid like he tends to do. Dean is completely caught up in that intense blue stare when he opens his mouth and, “ I’m glad you live here!” falls out. 

And now everyone is staring at him like he’s grown a second head and Cain is nudging him gently forward to get between him and the trailer. “ Eloquent, he is not. But always sincere.” He tosses a gentle wink to Dean to soften his teasing and graciously accepts the jug from Castiel, freeing up his hands. “I take it we’ve all met previously. “ His dry response gets a nervous giggle from Dean. 

“ We, uh, we met Dean at the pediatric office when Jack was sick last week.” Cas gestures weakly at the little boy still holding his hand but watching the goings on with rapt attention.

“ And I’m Claire’s pediatrician.” Jess pets the girl’s head. 

“ And I work with his brother, Gabe.” Sam throws in.

“ I’ve worked with Gabriel in the past.” Cain adds. “ And I knew Dean a--”

“ I dated Cain!” Again, every looks at Dean like he’s lost his mind because apparently he has. 

Cain saves him again, patting the younger man’s shoulder. “ Did I mention his sincerity? I believe the last few boxes can wait while we have a break. Dean, may we?” He tilts his head toward the stone steps.

“ Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure.” His head is going to fall off if he nods any harder. He stands back and lifts an arm, motioning for the others to go ahead. Cain senses his wrong footedness and takes the lead, conversing easily with Claire as she and Jess follow Cain up, followed by Sam, laughing at the whole procession. 

Which leaves Dean with Castiel and Jack. Jack seems fine just staring between them, while the adults stand rooted awkwardly to the ground. Dean is the first to crack. “ Is this weird? Did I make this weird? ” 

Castiel jumps slightly, but quickly recovers with a firm, “ No, of course not.” It’s followed by a less sure, “ Did I?”

“ No! No, not at all!” Dean vehemently denies the very thought. 

There’s another moment of silence, then they both bust out laughing. Closing the distance between them, Castiel gives a wave. “ Hello, Dean.”

“ Hey, Cas.” Dean happily gives back his own wave. 

Then Jack breaks away from his father and beelines straight for Dean, his arms held up in an obvious gesture. Dean grins and scoops the boy up. “ Heya, Jack. Feeling better?” 

“ Gah pop?” Jack stares into Dean’s soul with his marble blue eyes. “ Pop? Gah gape pop?”

“ Uh,” Dean stalls. He’s actually really good at interpreting pre-English, but his only guess doesn’t make much sense. “ Got grape pop?” 

Castiel chuckles. “ I think he’s asking for a grape ice pop.” 

“ Oh. Oh!” Dean laughs, too, bouncing Jack up and down in his arms to hear him squeal in delight. “ Well, I’d rather be associated with ice pops than shots. Sorry, buddy. I don’t have any pops right now. Maybe next time.”

“ No pop?” Jack puts a hand on Dean’s bearded cheek, puppy eyes in full effect.

“ No pop.” Dean is sad to confirm.

Jack pats Dean’s shoulder. “ ‘Tay. Dow, pease.” That, Dean understands, and he carefully sets the boy’s feet back on the ground. Jack immediately returns to Castiel, taking hold of the leg of his pajama pants and tugging toward the stairs. “ Taire, Daddy. Taire.” 

Castiel is smiling, that gummy smile that makes Dean want to keep it there all the fucking time. “ Yes, we’ll follow Claire.” 

Dean snaps out of his daze and literally hops in place. “ Oh, yeah! Let’s get into the A/C.” He waits until Castiel picks up Jack to walk up the steps before falling into pace behind him. Not to check out Castiel’s ass in the threadbare pajama pants, no. Absolutely not. But he does notice how nice it is. And his thighs. Just a passing glance, nothing more. So unprofessional.

_tbc..._


	5. Dinks, Dory, Din and Dat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jack don't get enough credit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads., kudos, and comments!!!

**Chapter 5: Dinks, Dory, Din and Dat**

**August 2018  
Still Saturday**

“ Claire, you know it’s rude to stare.” Castiel admonishes from his place at the kitchen table, laptop open to his latest project. “ And you’re setting a bad example for Jack.” Despite his reprimands, he does nothing to stop their hour long nosey neighbor routine. It’s kept them occupied and as a single parent one takes distractions where one can. 

“ Pop!” Jack squeals at the glass. “ Pop! Pop, pop, pop!”

“ You just had breakfast, Jack. You can have a popsicle after lunch. Right, Dad?” Claire looks over her shoulder to confirm. 

“ You are correct.” Castiel bobs his head absently, eyes glued to his computer screen. He shouldn’t be doing this, actually. Searching for jobs on his day off when he should be spending time with his children. But it’s a habit Castiel has gotten into, especially in his darker moments. He likes working at the library, he does, but he misses the university, the research projects, the conferences. A public library had been a sort of retirement plan for him when he’d first started his career and now it’s come much too soon under the worst circumstances and Castiel can’t help but want a way out. 

“ Dad, I think Dr. Jess is moving in!” Claire sounds as excited Jack. 

“ Pop, Daddy!” 

“ I doubt that, Claire.” Castiel closes his laptop and stretches. “ The apartment is much too small for a growing family.” He figures the neighbor has wild curly blonde hair, like Dr. Moore and Claire herself. Not that he doubts his daughter’s skills of observation, but it’s just too far a stretch that Dr. Moore and her husband would move into a one bedroom apartment when they’re expecting their first child. “ But, we should be good neighbors and go introduce ourselves, shouldn’t we?” He smiles at Claire’s instant excitement. 

“ Can we bring Kool-Aid? It’s so freaking hot!” Claire exclaims.

Castiel feels like he should correct her language, but he also feels like Claire should be allowed to express herself as she wants. As long as she’s not being rude or insensitive. So he gets up and wanders to the window where the two children are still stationed. Cain is the only person he sees outside, long gray hair contained by a black bandana, busy lugging a box from the trailer hitched to his truck. They must already have the bigger pieces inside. “ Alright, then. Help me make a jug and we’ll bring it over.” 

It takes a few minutes because Claire doesn’t like precise measurements and there’s quite a bit of tasting and pouring half the jug into an empty pitcher to dilute later while Castiel adds water to the jug to get a strawberry lemonade that won’t curdle their victims’ tongues. He grabs a clean stack of tumblers, taking eight because he has no clue how many people are helping with the move in, and tucks them under his arm. Castiel has Jack by the hand with the jug in the other and Claire is already reaching for the alarm pad when he realizes she’s in frazzled two-day-old Queen of Dragon braids (according to the youtube tutorial). Jack has bits of breakfast still on his shirt. Castiel hasn’t shaved in nearly three days. And they’re all still in their pajamas. At ten o’clock in the morning. _It’s Saturday,_ he comforts himself and lets Claire hop onto the counter to unlock the deadbolts, then hop down to unlock the knob. She’s down the steps and around the car before Castiel can get himself and Jack out of the house and close the door behind them. 

Castiel quells the tiny spark of panic. Cain is right around the corner with people he trusts. He can’t keep the children hidden in fear, especially in their own yard. Jack is just as enthusiastic about meeting their neighbors, dragging Castiel around the corner, bypassing the front porch and scrambling down the little hill toward the stone wall at the bottom of the drive. 

“ Dr. Jess!” Claire squeals, flinging herself at a blonde woman that is, yes, Dr. Moore from the pediatric clinic. 

Castiel is staring, confused, when another familiar face appears at the bottom of the stone steps on the far side of the trailer. A faded brown t-shirt with a bar logo and a green ball cap worn backwards. Ripped jeans hanging loosely off the bowed legs Castiel didn’t notice before but now can’t stop staring at. “ Dean?”

“ Cas?” Dean’s voice is hoarse, his eyes as wide and staring as Castiel’s.

“ Pop!” Jack points at Dean, other hand fisted on his hip. He’s looking back at Castiel with great satisfaction and if his vocabulary was any bigger, Castiel is certain the little boy would give him a scathing, _I told you so_. Of course Jack remembers Dean for giving him an ice pop. 

From there it’s a roller coaster of conflicting emotions. He should have guessed that his family lawyer was related to the attractive nurse practitioner; Winchester isn’t the most common of surnames. And now Castiel is wondering if that odd wave of recognition upon meeting Dean at the clinic for the first time was nothing more than a lost memory of seeing his photograph in Sam’s office at some point. And Sam being married to Claire’s pediatrician makes it even more likely that Sam’s brother would be employed there as well, nepotism has its benefits. And then, coincidence on top of coincidence, Cain knows Dean from--

“ I dated Cain!” 

Well, that’s… Castiel doesn’t really know how to feel about that bit of information because honestly he’s still quite confused over anything he feels for what is essentially a stranger. And in the middle of what is the biggest mess his life has ever been and the last thing he needs right now is… complications. Yes, exactly. Complications. Relationships are always complicated, especially for him, and right now they are doubly so, so Castiel pushes that messy tangle of physical urges and surprising emotions to the side and focuses on getting through this meeting with the least amount of awkward. 

“ Is this weird? Did I make this weird? ” 

Castiel startles, so focused on not being awkward that he’s already made Dean uncomfortable. Dean thinks he’s the one being weird and that will not do. “ No, of course not!” That was a bit too loud. And vehement. God, why can’t he be normal with people? “ Did I?”

“ No! No, not at all!” Dean denies in equal intensity. 

There’s a loaded beat and when they begin laughing, Castiel feels a huge weight lift from his mind. He decides they’re both making this harder than it has to be. They are adults, who happen to have some odd personal connections, and are now neighbors. There’s absolutely no reason they can’t be friends. In fact, a friend would be really good right about now. He clears his throat, an easy smile on his face and offers a wave with his free hand. “ Hello, Dean.”

“ Hey, Cas.” Dean waves back, smile almost shy.

And then Jack has taken it upon himself to make his own introductions and runs straight up to Dean, begging to be picked up. Dean seems happy to oblige and the following interaction has Castiel melting inside and out. When Jack returns to him and demands they follow Claire, Castiel does his best to get himself under control and be a polite guest. 

And if he wonders if his ass looks okay in the raggedy pajama pants while climbing the steps, well, he’s only human. 

Inside Dean’s new apartment, not much has changed since Castiel saw it a year ago when Cain was showing him around. There’d been a fresh coat of paint then, the smell still strong. The colors haven’t dulled, the walls varying shades of cool gray, the trim bright white. The original hardwood flooring is stained a dark walnut, in contrast to the newer composite wood planks in ash on Castiel’s side of the house. It sits over the garage with an addition extended toward the back that contains the kitchen and main entry.

Claire is seated comfortably at the small dining table tucked into a corner just beyond the kitchen’s border, Dr. Moore and Sam flanking her in mismatched chairs. Cain is at the kitchen counter, pouring Kool-Aid into the cups provided, lining them up, as he tells the story of the time his cat, Faulkner, chased a chipmunk into one of his beehives. Castiel knows Claire has heard this story several times, but it’s one of her favorites. He doesn’t interrupt as he takes a cup of drink and finds a spot on the kitchen floor out of the way, happily leaning back against a lower cabinet door. Jack promptly climbs into his lap. 

Dean is mortified. “ Dude, sit on the couch!” 

Castiel just laughs and slants a look up at the man. “ Dean, you do not want a toddler with an open cup of bright red fluid anywhere near your upholstery. I speak from experience, believe me.” 

Dean still seems uncomfortable with Castiel on the floor, the man shuffling foot to foot with drink in hand, before finally huffing and plopping down beside Castiel. “ Well, I can’t let you be the only grown-up on the floor.” 

That should not make Castiel blush, but he can feel the light tingling of heat creeping across his cheeks. He hopes he can blame it on the lingering summer heat, despite the air conditioning being on full blast. 

“ Pop, dink?” Jack asks, wedging himself between Dean and Castiel and eyeing Dean’s cup as though it might hold something more alluring than his own adult’s. 

Castiel sighs and answers before the other man has a chance. “ _Mr. Dean_ , Jack. His name is _Mr. Dean_.” 

Dean laughs and takes it up, putting his hand on his chest as he locks eyes with Jack. “ Just _Dean_ is good. Dean. _Duh-een_. Dean.” 

“ Dink.” Jack declares and reaches for the man’s cup. 

“ Sorry, big man. You don’t need my germs.” Dean carefully puts his cup out of reach. He’s not comfortable sharing his stranger germs with Jack while he’s still recovering. “ Can you say Dean?” 

“ Din?” Jack frowns, then tries again. “ Din.” A pudgy finger pokes Dean in the chest, then Jack points at himself, nearly going cross-eyed trying to look down at his finger. “ Dat .” 

Dean is immensely satisfied. “ Close enough. Sam used to call me Bean.” 

“ Jerk.” Sam mutters from the counter.

“ Biah-erkenstock.” Dean catches himself and glances guiltily at Castiel.

Castiel shrugs. “ Honestly, they’ve heard worse. But thank you for trying.” He watches Jack tilt the cup to his mouth, his own hand doing most of the work on the bottom half of the tumbler. 

Dean smiles gratefully and sips his own drink. “ I’m usually pretty on top of it. Working with kids for so long, you get used to self-censoring.” 

Dr. Moore chimes in with,” My favorite is _sonuvaflimflam_.” 

Dean pulls a mock angry frown. “ Hey! Pamela dropped a filing cabinet on my foot!” 

Everyone is laughing by then, and Castiel has to admit that he’s missed this kind of easy human interaction. Adult interaction. Like having… friends. He lets Jack finish off the drink and holds his empty cup, waiting for a moment before standing to wash it out. It’s actually rather comfortable down here. 

But Dean sees his situation a bit differently. He snatches Castiel’s cup and bounces to his feet, joining Cain and claiming the jug of Kool-Ade. When he reaches across the older man, his left t-shirt sleeve rides up and Claire’s keen eyes spot the flash of color instantly. “ Dory!” 

Conversation halts again as everyone’s gaze lands on the partially exposed tattoo on Dean’s left upper arm. Castiel remembers seeing the ink before at the pediatrics office, but he hadn’t had long enough or a close enough look to identify any details. He watches with intense curiosity as Dean pushes the sleeve up to his shoulder with the opposite hand. 

“ Yep, I got Dory and,” Dean traces a finger under the simply inked words trailing behind the bright blue angelfish in the wavy shape of motion lines. “ What’s Dory’s favorite thing to say?” 

“ Just keep swimming!” Claire answers with a happy shriek. “ Does it really say that?” She leans as far over the table as she can without falling out of her chair, squinting at the small print on his skin. 

Dean approaches the table and lets her sound it out, nodding his consent for her to touch Dory to see if the tattoo ,”feels different”. She’s disappointed that it doesn’t. Then her attention is snatched by the design above Dory. “ Is that your hand?”

Dean pauses, then very casually drops his sleeve to cover his tattoos.” Nah, just something a friend did for me. You want some more Kool-Aid?” He lifts the jug in her direction. 

No one else mentions the sudden change in topic and Castiel simply assumes the red inked handprint on his shoulder means something very personal to Dean. Maybe Castiel will find out later, maybe not. He lets it slide away as the conversation turns toward safer topics, like Cain’s coterie of cats and Sam’s current obsession with binge watching _Gilmore Girls_.

_**tbc…** _


	6. Shades of Shakespeare and Hallmark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reveal. First of many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments!!!

**Chapter 6: Shades of Shakespeare and Hallmark**

**August 2018  
Saturday Night**

 

It’s fairly late in the evening when Dean decides they’ve reached a stopping point. Everything is unpacked in the house; everything that needs to be washed has been washed (or is currently being washed by its proper machine); everything that can be feng shui’ed has been sorta moved around into the best position allowed by space constraints. Cain had left mid afternoon, once everything was inside, to help his part-time employee, Andy Gallagher, pack up at the farmers market. Castiel had taken the kids to the Nashville Zoo for some big event and had rolled back in with two sleepyheads a few hours later. Dean had left them to their well deserved naps.

Since delivery is frowned upon ( _“There’s a reason I have all this security, Dean, my dear,” Cain chides Dean when he mentions it._ ) Dean and Sam pile into Cain’s truck, leaving Jess to rest with her feet up, and head to the Kroger half an hour down the road. Dean doesn’t want to keep Jess waiting too long, so he calls in a pick up order at the Papa John’s in the same stripmall and shops for groceries while he waits. Just the staples and a few things to throw together for a few dinners. He’ll do a full shopping spree next week when he’s more settled.

An hour later and most of the pizza is gone, Jess going slice for slice with Dean. She’s sprawled happily on the couch watching her husband and brother-in-law hookup Dean’s multiple entertainment electronics.

“ Is it on?” Dean asks from behind the huge flat screen TV.

“ Nope.” Jess’s voice is much too smug for Dean’s taste.

“ Now?”

“ Nope.”

“ Goddammit,” Dean mutters under his breath, unplugging and replugging the data cord. Again. “ Now?”

“ Yep.”

Dean ducks out from around the unit and spots Jess’ very suspicious smile. “ Was it on this whole time?”

“ I wouldn’t do that to you, Dean.” Jess replies, one leg swinging off the couch. “ Only the last two times.”

Sam’s bitchface is epic. “ Was the Playstation up the whole time, too?”

Jess winks at her hubby. “ Yep.”

Both men shoot her barely heated glares and rise from their spots on the floor to very carefully move the large wooden entertainment center back against the wall. Once done, Sam flops beside Jess on the couch and Dean drops into the recliner crammed into the corner.

Dean motions for the pizza box in Jess’ lap and the woman hands it over after taking another cheese stick for herself. Dean takes the last slice of Meat Lovers and shoves half into his mouth before biting it off. He’s beat; physically, mentally, emotionally.

Out of everything that happened, the deal with his tattoos had been the most exhausting. After Castiel had left with the kids, Sam had laughed about the Dory tattoo, ribbing Dean about how he’d told Sam he’d gotten it during a Disney induced drunken weekend, five years ago. Dean didn’t have to look at Cain to see the older man mentally doing the math and realizing the significance of the determined little fish inked onto Dean’s arm. Dean had walked Cain to his Jeep and Cain had given Dean a nice long hug and said he was proud of him and Dean had nearly busted out crying right then and there.

Just thinking about it now gets a tingle in the back of Dean’s throat and he swallows it down with another hefty bite of pizza. He’s ready to stop thinking for the night, but his brother has other plans.

“ You and Castiel were getting along pretty well.” Casual, yet oh so not. Sam only glances at Dean over his own pizza. “ Looks like you’ve got a new friend.” Brotherly teasing.

Dean shrugs it off. “ I guess. He’s a nice guy. ”

“ He is. I like him.” Sam nods his head, chewing slowly. “ You should invite him to the next clinic karaoke.”

“ Sam, don't. ” Jess gives her husband a warning look.

“ Why not?” Sam and Dean ask in unison; one confused, the other mildly offended.

Jess gives an epic eye roll then nails Sam with another stern glare. “ You know why.”

“ Well, I don’t.” Dean sets his face in a determined frown.

“ I’m not matchmaking here,” Sam begins, feeling only mildly reprimanded by his wife. “ I just think they’d be good for each other. In a completely platonic way.”

“ Ok, yeah. Castiel always looks like he’s two steps away from a parental meltdown and the workaholic over here needs to have fun with someone who’s not a coworker or family. And it is stupidly convenient that they get along _and_ now live within spitting distance.” Jess sips on her water and burps loudly under hand. “ Especially with everything Castiel’s been through…”

“ Dude, I’m right here. What are you not telling me?” Dean points his pizza crust at Jess before he drops it into the box, confused and growing steadily more irritated with his immediate family.

Sam and Jess both stare at him, matching looks of incredulity etched across their expressions. Then Jess turns to Sam. “ He really doesn’t know, does he?”

Dean pulls his best bitch face, which is technically second only to Sam’s. “ Know what?”

Sam shakes his head, frowning at his brother across from him. “ Dude, it was all over the news last summer. It’s still making news. My ex-coworkers are working it and I _know_ I told you about it because it was the day you dropped your phone into the spaghetti sauce while we were talking and you had to use Bobby’s old flip phone to call me back.”

Dean frowns even harder; he can feel a muscle twitching in his jaw. “ I remember the Sauce Incident.” He’s still trying to scrape together the long ago memory that is mostly punctuated by frustration at being without his smartphone for a week.

Lucky for Dean, Sam dives right into the gossip he was so obviously anxious to share. “ So last July, there was a double murder in East Nashville. Two women bludgeoned to death with a hammer in their home. Obviously not my department, but Abagale Donovan in Criminal decided to leave the firm just so she can handle it personally.”

Okay, that’s actually ringing a tiny bell. Mostly due to the gruesome details.“ Wasn't it that douchey trust fund psycho? I thought they arrested him.” Dean vaguely remembers seeing a few headlines on his social media sites. He remembers Sam hadn’t been on the case, but one of his used-to-be colleagues at the firm is defending the accused.

Sam nods, his beer bottle tapping lightly against his outer thigh. “ Nicholas Adler. He named his talent agency _Lucifer,_   because he’s a big drama queen. And really, apt nickname. He's been charged with a slew of felonies, along with the double homicide--”

“ But he's got money and connections and his lawyer- who literally left Sam's firm to become the dick's personal defense team-  has him out on bail. That asshole never even spent a night in handcuffs.” Jess frowns over her cheesestick.

Dean is very confused now. “ Okay, what's Cas got to do with this?”

Sam pauses, picking at the label on his beer bottle, before quietly continuing. “ The women Nick murdered were sisters. Amelia Kline was Claire’s mother; Cas’ ex. The other was Jack’s mother, Kelly. Nick Adler is his father.”

“ Oh my god.” Dean can barely even imagine it, then it sinks in that, “ Wait. Cas isn’t Jack’s biological father?”

Jess shakes her head, reaching for the last cheesestick. “ Hard to believe, I know. Jack’s like a mini-Cas. It’s insane.”

“ Holy shit.” Dean can’t get gather up a more intelligent response. Other than the predictable, “ What happened?”

Sam nods in agreement with Dean’s initial reaction. “ Cas was down here visiting with Claire and offered to take Jack for the afternoon. He was barely a year old so Cas was really doing Kelly a big favor, giving her and Amelia a break for a few hours. When Cas came back to the house with Jack and Claire in tow, Nick met them at the door covered in blood. Cas tackled him and shouted for Claire to grab Jack and run to the neighbors. Claire was only four, but according to the police report she dragged Jack to the house across the street. The old lady got them inside and called 9-1-1.”

“ There isn’t any other close family and even Nick’s money couldn't get him custody of Jack before his trial, so the court granted Cas temporary custody of both. As Claire’s father, it was easy enough for me, with Gabe’s connections, to get him full permanent custody of her within a few months. He’s suing for the same for Jack as soon as Nick is convicted. I can’t do much more than that for him, at the moment.”

“ Think about it,” Jess pulls a sympathetic face. “ In the space of a day, one of your best friends and her sister are murdered, you're nearly killed by the same guy, and suddenly you're a full time dad to two little kids. And he's _still_ dealing with the press and the trial.”

“ Gabriel’s been helping him out where he can and their cousin, Michael, the DA, helped him get the job at the library. But still,” Sam shakes his head in wonderment. “ I can't even imagine going through what he has in the past eighteen months. The kids, too.”

“ Jesus Christ.” Dean mutters, mouth of the beer bottle balancing on his lower lip a moment before he tilts it back to take a swig. Honestly, his first instinct is to run next door and scoop the entire little family into a massive hug. His papa bear instincts have always been strong, but hearing what not only the kids, but Cas, as well, have suffered through for so long… Dean has to forcefully keep his ass in his chair. Pity is not something they need. Overwrought displays of alpha male (his secondary instinct) are not needed. He swallows another gulp and makes the decision to just be the best damn neighbor he can be. “ Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m here to keep an eye on them.”

Jess laughs outright and Sam snorts into his beer. Dean ignores them thoroughly and wonders if it would be weird to bring over a pie tomorrow night.

**XOXOXOX**

**Then: 13 Years Ago**

Castiel likes driving at night. Not just in the dark, or after sunset. But late night, early morning. Long after the evening rush hour but before the morning traffic. When there’s next to no one on the road and it’s quiet and peaceful and he just sorta zones out and lets the car take him where he needs to go. It’s even better in the summer when he can roll the windows down and there’s music playing just loud enough to be heard over the air rushing in.

Like now, with _Enya_ singing quietly under the wind and the scent of dry pine and early fireworks permeating the air.

Castiel is on his way to a conference at the University of South Dakota in Vermillion, where he is speaking on research in religious studies. It’s not exactly prestigious, but it is one of the more prominent colleges in South Dakota and it’s literally next door, so he didn’t feel right refusing, even if it meant travelling over a holiday weekend. Gabriel had wanted him to come out to Alto Paolo to visit, but it’s such a short holiday Castiel hadn’t felt it worth the airfare. He’d promised his brother a longer stay over the summer and Gabriel had been mollified for the time being.

Gabriel has also been bugging Castiel for a brotherly road trip. Castiel loves driving, and he loves his brother, but he doesn’t think he could handle being in such a confined space for such an extended period of time with Gabriel. Sharing a bedroom until Gabriel left for college had been a challenge in patience.

Besides, part of what Castiel enjoys about driving is the solitude. He’s alone with his thoughts, he can mull over work problems, or personal problems or best yet, let his mind go blank and simply exist in the moment, keeping the car on the road and pointed in the right direction.

The well loved CD begins skipping and Castiel reaches to eject it when the flash of lights up ahead catches hi attention. It’s not steady flashing, like emergency vehicles or road hazard warnings. It’s almost flickering, with huge swathes of steady high beam level of white light cutting across the landscape.

The smell of smoke is heavier and Castiel can practically taste it on his tongue as he slows the car down.

He slams on his brakes and throws his emergencies the moment he gets around the bend. A tanker truck is jack knifed across both lanes, tail end still propped on the raised median. It is, luckily, not the source of the flames. No, that would be the vehicle flipped upside down and partially pinned beneath the tanker.

Castiel jumps from his car and races toward the trapped vehicle. He spots a figure near the opposite shoulder of the road. The form is motionless, but out of immediate danger, so Castiel dismisses them in favor the people who may not be lucky enough to have an easy escape.

The flames are thick on the undercarriage of the black car, licking high into the air. Over the roar, Castiel can make out someone yelling.

“ Wake up! C’mon, son!”

Castiel drops to the ground at the passenger’s side. Broken glass covers the asphalt. The passenger is conscious and shouting at the driver who does not appear to be so when Castiel ducks down to peer through the busted window. He reaches in and grabs the older man’s shoulder. “ Hey! I’m gonna get you out!” Castiel starts pulling on the man’s arm, only to be knocked free so violently he falls on his ass.

“ No! C-can’t!” The man growls, one hand pushing against the console, voice cutting in and out. “ Fuckin’ crushed in--but De--’s loose!” He grabs a fistful of Castiel’s shirt and glares through the smoke and blood. “ Get h-- out, please!”

It’s a split second decision. Castiel has no idea how long he has before a gas tank blows or he’s overcome by the fumes. If he can get the other victim out quickly, then he can return to help this man. Castiel gets to his feet and sprints around to the other side of the car that is pinned beneath the tanker. The analytical part of his brain runs through a scenario to account for the strange position: initial strike on passenger side, momentum flipped car upside down, tanker balanced on driver’s side just barely.

There’s just enough room for Castiel to crawl between the grass and broken metal and reach into this busted out window for the younger man inside. He seems in and out, a gash in his hairline bleeding profusely, face smeared in blood from a slew of smaller cuts. His eyes blink almost sleepily at Castiel’s hands on his upper arms. The older man must’ve gotten the younger out of his seatbelt, the poor guy slumped against the roof of the vehicle. Castiel has to lean in further to get a better grip on the man’s arms and as he yanks him free of the wreckage, he feels something scratching through his shirt, from between his shoulder blades and down his right arm to his elbow. It’s a vague, distant sensation and Castiel ignores the pain in favor of dragging the dead weight as far from the wreck as possible, mostly toward his own car parked a reasonably safe distance from the inferno. The young man- Dan he thinks he heard the other call him- begins to struggle in his grasp and Castiel tightens his grip and continues until he’s on the other side of his car.

He falls under the man’s weight and his own momentum, landing hard on the asphalt and instinctually wrapping both arms around his cargo to keep him safe. Castiel’s heart is thumping so hard he’s certain the man crushed against his chest has to feel it through his thin t-shirt. He takes a deep breath, ready to lay the man down and go back for the other when the loudest boom he’s ever experienced splits the air like earthbound thunder and a wave of heat flashes over them.

On reflex, Castiel flips them both over, pressing their fronts to the road, his back exposed to the onslaught. The scratch on his back burns hotter, enough that Castiel can’t ignore the pain blooming across his skin and muscles. Not helped when the man beneath begins struggling in earnest, tear choked coughs laboring his breathing.

Castiel manages to keep his hold on him as he shifts them both mostly upright; Castiel finally sitting up, with the young man held tightly to his chest, bloody cheek pressed against his shoulder. “ I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Castiel doesn’t want to look, but his eyes are drawn to the inferno blazing skyward. His captive is mumbling incoherently, reaching out and struggling weakly in Castiel’s hold. He just catches a shattered whisper of ,” ‘m... in hell?” before he loses his own emotional control. Castiel squeezes him much too tightly and curves a shaky hand over the young man’s eyes to hide the horrific scene. And then he rocks them both, hoarse voice repeating, “ I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” in the most calming manner he can muster under the circumstances.

There are sirens in the distance and Castiel realizes he never called 9-1-1; a passing motorist on the other side of the median must have alerted emergency services. So he sits and rocks and cries as the man in his arms passes out and the sirens grow ever louder.

**XOXOXOX**

**Now: August 2018  
Saturday Night**

It’s a harsh rush of memories as Castiel stares at the black behemoth in Dean’s garage.

After returning from the zoo and a luxurious two hour nap, the children had begged to play on the slip-and-slide. It had happily whiled away the afternoon and evening. With the children immersed in a nature show Netflix binge, Castiel had come outside to pick up the plastic sheeting and hose, the toys strewn about the front yard. One of Jack’s many bouncy balls escapes his hold, rolling down the hill and curving down the drive toward Dean’s side of the house. Castiel gives chase before it gets too far ahead of him, snatching it up as he skids to a halt in front of Dean’s garage door. Which suddenly slides open to reveal Dean and the beautiful classic car that has triggered his flashback.

Castiel squeezes the psychedelic colored ball to his chest with both arms, attempting to force his thoughts back under control.

Dean doesn’t seem to realize there’s anything odd about Castiel’s wide eyed silence, broad grin stretching across his face. “ Hey, Cas! Whatcha doin’ out here so late?”

“ Just cleaning up the yard.” Wow, his voice is actually much steadier than Castiel could hope for. He’s staring. Castiel can’t help it. But Dean’s caught the direction of his gaze and his enthusiasm is instantaneous and overwhelming.

“ Come meet my Baby!” Dean is grinning ear to ear, obviously very excited to show off his precious. “ I had her at Cain’s to keep her out of the way. Moved her in while y’all were at the zoo.” He steps back and motions Cas to approach.

There’s a split second when Castiel is afraid he’s going to throw up or his legs will refuse to work, then he finds himself casually striding across the gravel toward the uniquely shaped garage door. He steps inside and listens to Dean wax poetic about the car that even Castiel can tell is in pristine condition.

“ Beautiful, ain’t she?” Dean is practically beaming with pride. “ ‘67 Chevy Impala, Tuxedo Black. A 327 V8 and a 4 barrel carburetor; was a bitch trying to find original parts for replacements. My dad bought her in ‘73 and I got her on my eighteenth birthday. Never even owned another car.”

Castiel nods, mesmerized by Dean’s reflection in the windows. He tries to keep his focus there.“ You’ve taken very good care of her.”

“ I try. She got totaled years ago, but I built her back up from scratch. “ Dean is trailing his fingers lovingly along a gleaming black fender. “ Better than new. “

Castiel swallows, fights for control of his voice. “ Really? That severe?” He glances down at the large ball pressed tightly against his chest. Feels the tingle along the scar under his shirt. He clears his throat. “ Were you injured, as well?”

“ No, uh, not really, but my father didn’t make it,” Dean waves off Castiel’s quiet,” I’m sorry,” and taps his forehead. “ I got away with a bad concussion and fractured leg. Someone, uhm, someone pulled me out, got me clear. “ He laughs and rucks up his left shirt sleeve to his shoulder, exposing the tattoos.

Now that Castiel is closer and the garage light is bright overhead, he can see the finer details in the non-Disney inspired tattoo. The large handprint curves around Dean’s upper arm, near the shoulder, in a simple thin outline. But within each section of the anatomically accurate shape, are more thin red lines nesting inside each other, growing smaller and smaller, creating a topographical effect.

Dean looks embarrassed, but presses on. “ Sam says it was my guardian angel. He gripped me so tight he left bruises on my arm and when I got out of the hospital and worked through some… _stuff_ , I took a picture- the nurses took pics for the insurance companies- down to the tattoo parlor and got this slapped on me.” He laughs again, but brushes his thumb gently down the ink as he lets the sleeve fall back into place.

The pride and love in his face is painful to see. Because in Castiel’s mind, it is overlayed with the bloody face streaked with tears as Dean watched his father burn up in the very car he’s so affectionately stroking now. Except Dean obviously doesn’t quite remember it, not fully anyway. And that realization slams into Castiel’s gut like a physical punch.

Dean doesn’t remember him. It’s awful and nightmarish, what he does remember, but Dean doesn’t actually remember the screams and burning. Not like Castiel does and… And… Castiel makes a smile appear on his own face, not as easy as Dean’s, but passable. “ I’m glad you’re all right now. I’m glad... an angel was watching over you, as Sam believes.” God, he did not just compare himself to an angel. Blasphemy.“ Have a good night, Dean.” Castiel ducks his head to hide the grimace he can feel stretching his face, barely acknowledging Dean’s similar night tidings, and hurries toward the corner of the house where he can safely hide his shame.

Dear God, this is Shakespearean levels of coincidence! Castiel keys open the bottom lock on the kitchen door and rushes inside, not quite slamming the door shut. Claire looks up from the TV, frowning, but says nothing. Castiel smiles at her and she returns her attention to the Planet Earth episode currently playing.

He numbly locks up, arms the security system, and drops the ball onto the kitchen table. How could this have happened? Seriously, what kind of fucked up fate could have drawn them together in such a twisted way? Castiel sits heavily in the kitchen chair and puts his head in his hands, mind roaring with doubts.

Should he tell Dean? What would he tell him? How much would he tell him?

“ Dad, does your head hurt?”

Claire is right at his elbow and Castiel jumps, constantly surprised by his child’s stealth. He’s quick to school his face into its normal tired smile. “ A little bit, but it will get better. Are you and Jack watching the episode about the oceans?”

“ Yep. I think Jack is trying to say _shark_ but it sounds like _fart_.” Claire looks decidedly concerned.

Castiel’s smile grows more genuine. “ It could be worse. Remember how you used to say firetruck when you were small?”

Claire giggles and covers her mouth, though he can understand her clearly when she speaks. “ I used to say a very very bad word.”

“ Yes, you did. Which was embarrassing for your mother and me, but also highly amusing.” Castiel gets up from the chair, intent on parenting and enjoying it for another couple hours before bedtime. “ Let’s learn about sharks and maybe penguins before Jack’s bedtime.”

He leads his daughter back into the living room and happily squeezes between the two children on the couch. While their attention is latched onto the scene of a whale shark meandering through the fathomless blue ocean, Castiel shoots a text to Meg, asking her to call him on her break. He needs to talk to someone about this whole Dean mess and get a mostly unbiased opinion.

Once bedtime has come and gone, Castiel drops heavily onto the couch and mutes the television, leaving the nature documentary playing silently. Jack had gone down easily enough, tired out from the day’s excitement. Even Claire hadn’t begged for another story or attempted to engage him in an interesting tangent. It’s been an exhausting day for everyone involved.

At half past nine, Castiel’s phone buzzes on the couch cushion beside him, Meg’s ID flashing up on the screen. He didn’t expect her to call this early. Castiel nearly drops the phone in his rush to answer. “ Meg?”

“ Clarence what’s got your panties in a twist this time?” Meg’s dark voice is oddly soothing over the line.

“ Remember when I pulled that man from a wrecked car thirteen years ago?”

“ I remember changing the bandages on your back for the following month.”

“ He’s my neighbor now. And also one of Claire and Jack’s pediatricians.” Castiel blurts out.

“... Oookay?” Meg pauses, obviously waiting for further information on why she should care.

“ Don’t you think that’s odd?” Castiel questions roughly.

“ I mean, yeah, but it’s not call-me-in-the-middle-of-the-night odd.” There’s a soft rustle of papers, Meg maybe going through some of her files at her desk. “ So what’s this actually about? Is he like, offering himself up in gratitude? If he’s hot then I say take him up on it.”

Castiel ignores the crude half joke and gets to his own point. “ He doesn’t remember. I mean, he doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t know I was the one who got him out. And I’m not sure telling him would be the right thing to do.”

There’s a longer pause and a thoughtful _hmmm,_ before Meg answers with a question of her own. “ You like him, don’t you?”

“ Yes!” Castiel practically whines. “ Which is not something I’m experienced with.”

“ You like _me_.”

“ You’re the exception to every rule, Meg.”

“ You certainly know how to make a gal feel special, “ Meg chuckles quietly. “ So, what are you thinking?” No jokes this time, she’s taking him seriously.

“ On one hand, I feel like he should know the truth since I’m literally next door.” Cas tilts his head to the side, staring at his open hand as though he can physically see the option in his palm.

“ On the other hand…”Meg prompts.

“ I want to avoid exactly what you’ve already mentioned.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair and over ihs face. “ Maybe not exactly that, I don’t think sex has any part to play in this, but… Meg, he has a tattoo of a handprint on his arm, where it bruised when I grabbed him. His brother says it’s from his guardian angel.” Despite the mild panic, the thought also sparks a tiny bloom of warmth in his chest. Because he is a horrible human being.

“ Holy shit, that’s Hallmark levels of sentimentality,” Meg snorts over the line.

“ I can’t live up to that, Meg! I don’t want him to feel… indebted to me, or whatever. The whole situation is awkward enough without a life debt thrown into the mix.”

“ Is he hot?”

“ Meg!”

“ That’s not an answer, Clarence.”

Another heavy sigh, this one more exasperated. “ Yes, he’s very attractive. And funny and kind and apparently an excellent chef though I haven’t experienced it firsthand and none of that has anything to do with my current predicament, whatsoever.”

“ Again, untwist your panties. Just curious, is all.” Meg’s smirk is clear even over the line. “ Look, it’s your call. Tell him and get some thank you nookie, nookie which you so desperately need, by the way. Don’t tell him and let it drive you crazy every time you see him at the mailbox. I know which I’d choose.”

“ You’d tell him.” Castiel confirms. “ But I just can’t… I don’t think I can deal with that. Right now.”

Meg’s tone is much more sympathetic. “ I know. Just promise me you won’t stew over it like you do. You’re not responsible for this guy, no what’s happened or how hot he is.”

Castiel lets himself laugh, just a little. “ Thank you, Meg. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“ Good night, Clarence. I’ll see ya next Friday.”

Meg ends the call and Castiel listens to the dial tone for a moment before locking his screen, hanging up on his end. He stares over the back of the couch, out the window and into the circle of bright light flooding the backyard.

Absently, Castiel pushes a hand under his opposite sleeve, fingers tracing the faint scars climbing up his arm. He’s afraid his sleep will be anything but peaceful tonight.

 

_**tbc…** _


	7. Go Wif Din

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean enjoys his monthly clinic karaoke night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments!!
> 
> Someone recently mentioned that they liked the authenticity of Cas’ library job which can be explained by the fact that I work in a library :) Cas’ day in Chapter 2 is a pretty common day at work for me; except I work all day in the chaos of Children’s.

**Chapter 7: Go Wif Din**

**September 2018  
Friday Night**

 

The first Friday of each month is Clinic Karaoke night at the Roadhouse.

When Dean had first visited his brother and sister-in-law here years ago, he’d been invited along and had been greatly impressed by the camaraderie between the clinic employees and the singing talent on display. Since moving to Tennessee and joining the Hunter Hollow Pediatric crew, he’s been to each karaoke night, happy to have a set date in his calendar for fun with his coworkers and friends. The little coincidence that the place has the same name as his Aunt Ellen’s bar back in Sioux Falls doesn’t hurt none either.

At 6:00pm, Dean is dressed in his second best dark jeans and red AC/DC t-shirt and humming cheerfully as he carefully pulls Baby out of the garage. Front windows rolled down, radio playing quietly until he can get out onto the main road. He has Baby in _Park_ , aiming the remote back at the garage door to close it up, when he hears his name being hollered by a familiar voice from the other side of the car. Dean laughs at the sight of two little hands suddenly curved over the edge of the open passenger side window, then flinches at the thuds of little feet hitting the bottom half of the door; Jack clearly attempting to climb into the Impala the hard way.

“ Jack, no!” Cas’ voice booms across the yard.

Dean watches with no small amount of amusement as the tiny fingers release and disappear just as Cas jogs up to the car and loops an arm around Jack’s middle to lift him up and away. Jack shrieks in protest. Cas bends down to window level. “ Dean, I am so sorry!”

“ Din! GowifDin!” Jack continues to make his opinions known loudly and at high frequency. “ GOOO! WIIIF! DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!”

Claire pops out from behind Cas, her stocky little body pressed against the passenger side door, arms draped through the open window. Completely unruffled by her brother’s fit. Her expression is just as curious and hopeful as Dean imagines Jack’s was only a few moments ago. “ Hey, where are you going? Are you going to eat? Are you going somewhere with rolls?”

“ Claire, please!” Cas struggles with the toddler in his grasp, backing up enough to keep Jack from kicking the car again- or Claire- and to get a better look at the abused door below. “ I don’t see any marks, other than dirt, but I’ll--”

“ Are you doing grown-up stuff? Are you going to a bar to get drunk?”

“ DINDINDINDINDINDINDINDIIIIIIIIIIIIN!”

“ Whoa! Whoa, everyone chill! ” Dean really wants to laugh, but he understands that won’t help this situation, so instead he leans across the seat to get a clear view of Jack still flopping around in Cas’ arms like a bag of wet cats. “ Jack? Kiddo!”

Jack’s attention snaps to Dean, his body stilling, his little round face full of hope.

Dean’s not giving in though. He gives the boy a serious look, glancing at Claire to include her. “ Yes, I’ve got boring grown-up stuff to do. And you,” he pokes Jack’s sneaker. “ Gotta stay here and play with Claire and Daddy, okay?”

There’s a split second where Dean can _see_ the wheels turning behind those big baby blues, the kid debating starting another hissy or cutting his losses. It reminds Dean so very very much of Sam when he was young.

“ And Aunt Meg is coming for dinner.” Claire chimes in.

Dean would ponder this mystery female visitor and the twinge of unhappiness in his gut at the mention of her, but suddenly, Jack goes limp, sandbagging, and huffs out, “ ‘Tay.”

Dean’s definitely not thinking about a woman coming by to have dinner with Cas. Someone familiar enough the kids call her Aunt. Then Dean imagines them calling him Uncle and inwardly shudders in dismay. Way too creepy. Not thinking about it, anyway. Dean shakes himself back to the real world and offers a compromise for their relatively good behavior post-denial. “ You wanna drive to your house?”

Jack attempts to fling himself through the open window, shouting, “ Dife! Dife!”

Cas catches him before he makes a full escape. “ _Duh-rrrrrrive._ And not that way, Jack.” He opens the door and ducks down to plop Jack’s bottom onto the seat. “ Slide over so Claire has room. Okay, Claire, now you. Careful of the seats.”

Dean grins as the kids wiggle into his car, Jack happily perching in Dean’s lap to use the steering wheel. Claire sits mostly in the middle of the bench seat, stretching forward to mess with the radio volume. And Cas… well. Cas is standing in the open door, one hand slowly sliding over the edge of the window. Dean watches the strong fingers curl around the metal and moulding, gripping tight. Dean’s about to ask if anything’s wrong, when the older man lets go and drops into the seat next to Claire. There’s a tightness around his eyes when he glances at Dean and smiles. “ Thank you, Dean.”

“ Everyone ready?” Dean asks, hoping to dispel his own worries over Cas’ seeming hesitance to enter his car. He revs the engine a few times which distracts Jack’s attention from the horn, thank god. A chorus of affirmatives, one last revving, then Dean puts Baby into gear. “ You got it, Jack. Let’s go!” He eases up on the brake pedal, and taps the gas, sending the Impala up the gentle incline at a very slow crawl.

Jack is freakin’ ecstatic. He puts both tiny hands on the big wheel and turns it as far as his short arms are capable. Which isn’t much, especially without power steering.

Claire is middle seat driving, ordering Jack to watch out for the hill and the bigger rocks in the gravel and their toys lying far into the grassy yard and nowhere near the drive.

Cas is smiling, but quiet. And rather stiff in his seat.

After about thirty feet they reach their destination, namely the bottom of Cas’ driveway. Where, naturally, Claire demands her turn. Dean catches sight of Cas looking out the window, face drawn tight. Dean doesn’t understand why the man seems so uncomfortable in the Impala. But he can’t think about it right now, because Jack and Claire are changing places - without fighting, amazingly enough- and Dean has to put the bench seat back another inch so the girl isn’t right on top of the wheel. She flops into his lap and Dean, _oofs_ , wondering how dominant the Kline traits are that she and Jack can both be so solidly built sharing less than a quarter of their genetics. “ Okay, this is the hard part. Check your mirrors. And--” He helps her shift into _Reverse_. “ Here we go!” Again, he eases off the brake, but this time just lets gravity take over to get Baby to roll back down the drive towards his garage door.

Unlike Jack, who was a good little ten-and-two’er (like Cas, Dean imagines), Claire has obviously been watching Dean drive because she immediately leans far left to get her elbow propped on the window ledge, other arm braced out to drape a hand over the top of the wheel, neck craned to see back around Dean. She and Jack are both singsonging, “ Back dat thang up! Back dat thang up!” And Dean is about to absolutely lose his shit. He glances over at Cas to find him in a similar state; hand tightly over his mouth, upper body shaking, fighting back intense laughter. Dean’s glad the inappropriately hilarious lyrics have eased Cas’ nerves.

Dean speeds up the last couple yards and slams on the brakes, just to hear Claire scream out, “ Heck yeah!”

“ Alright, last stop. Everybody off!” He chuckles and puts Baby into _Park_ , opening his door to let Claire hop out. Jack sees this alternative route and lunges for it before Cas can grab hold of him. Dean is tempted to make a Wooderson joke, but he figures his audience is a bit young for the reference and instead boops Jack’s nose as he holds onto him until Cas exits the passenger door and circles the car to claim them.

Claire has already climbed onto the stone retaining wall, heels thumping the weathered rock as she kicks her legs a foot from the ground. Cas lifts Jack up to sit beside her, keeping his hand on the boy’s back and his hip pressed against his side, securing Jack solidly in place.

While Claire and Jack compare driving notes, Cas looks down at Dean through the open door, his smile turning apologetic again as he shifts his weight to his near foot, Jack leaning too far out for his father’s liking. “ I’ll help the next time you wash her, or pay for--”

“ Seriously, it’s okay, Cas. Promise.” Dean waves it off and closes his door. “She gets worse just being parked at the grocery store. I’ll see ya later, ‘kay?” He waves to Cas and the kids and carefully pulls off, completely happy with this little detour.

Both kids are satisfied and Cas is smiling that big crinkley eyed, gummy smile that makes Dean feel fuzzy inside.

The friendly kinda fuzzy. Not romantical in any way. Nope.

Playing has made him ten minutes late and Sam is standing outside near the front door when Dean pulls into the parking lot. Sam looks up from his phone, waving at Dean absently as he continues his conversation that looks work related and now Dean knows why Sam is taking it outside; Jess doesn’t do anything other than work emergencies outside the office. Dean pulls into his usual spot in a far corner, where he can see Baby through the windows but she’s out of the way of most of the traffic. He locks her up and circles around to check out the damage to the passenger door. Cas was right, Dean finding nothing but dirt when he swipes his fingers over the marks. He passes by his brother on his way inside, debating whether or not he should tell Jess about his impromptu client meeting in the lot.

There’s nothing fancy about the Hunter Hollow Roadhouse, inside or out (much like its distant cousin in South Dakota), though the inside is definitely much newer since Benny had it renovated only four years ago. The building is an old, single story dive that most people wouldn’t glance twice at along the two lane highway that connects Antioch and Mt. Juliet, where there’s constant new growth and the nearest ramp to I-40. It used to be even more rundown when it was a shady biker bar called Purgatory, run by one badass bitch named Eve. Eventually there’d been one drug bust too many and Eve had abandoned ship, leaving her long time bartender, Benny LaFitte, in the lurch. Benny had managed to avoid jail time and purchased the building at foreclosure and sunk his meager savings into turning the place into an aboveboard bar and grill. Now the Roadhouse is filled during the weekdays with the lunch crowd eager to fill up on amazing burgers and fries (Benny had to hire another fry cook just to handle the to-go orders) and on the weekends a slightly rowdier crowd streams in to sample homemade gumbo and either sing off key during karaoke on Fridays or kick back and enjoy whatever local band Benny’s scrounged up for Saturday night.

Dean’s been an avid fan of the bar and its owner since his very first visit. That just so happened to end with a memorable one night stand with said owner and managed to not be awkward the morning after. Or when Dean moved here and discovered Benny three years married to a Greek spitfire named Andrea and they’d all just had a good laugh over it.

Once Dean’s inside, the cool air washes over him with the heady scent of beer and tang of spicy food. A draft sucks by him, Sam returning on his heels, phone safely pocketed. The taller man grins at Dean and slaps him soundly on the back between his shoulder blades. “ We ordered your usual. “ Sam leans in a bit in order to keep his voice at a conversational level.

Dean nods in thanks, giving a thumbs up as he lets Sam swing past him to lead him to their usual setup in the corner nearest the little stage. Four two-tops have already been pushed together to seat the gathering of ten. No elbow room whatsoever. Dean takes his usual seat at the far end of the grouping, tugging his chair out and falling into it with a heavy sigh of relief. Not just at getting off his feet, though that feels awesome after a hard shift, but because there’s something comforting about this place, these people, hell, even the food he can smell all around him. The atmosphere combines to settle his squirrely thoughts, his uncertainties, his many many doubts.

And tonight, most of those doubts and uncertainties and squirrely thoughts all revolve around one particular blue eyed brunette that lives next door.

So Dean gratefully accepts a cold bottle of beer and tips it back.

It’s fairly early in the evening, but the Roadhouse is already jumping; the tables are filled and only three stools are available at the bar. Dean knows it won’t be long before they’re taken, as well, and it’ll be standing room only until karaoke is over.

“ Order up!” A throaty female voice cuts through the classic rock and conversation. Andrea, Benny’s wife and CFO, maneuvers her way through the tightly packed tables with a massive tray held high. She’s beaming brightly at her tables of regulars as she begins carefully handing over individual orders. “ Nine beers, and one Coke for the lady with a baby. Gumbo, gumbo, gator bites and gumbo…” Andrea works her way around the table, various Cajun delights finding their owners (with the exception of Jess’ very plain hamburger because spicy food has become her new preggo kryptonite) until her tray is empty and she returns to the kitchen for the rest of their orders. Dean is distracted by Ed and Harry popping out over the kitchen counter for a moment. They spot Dean, giving him the stink eye, before ducking back into the kitchen proper. Andrea immediately reappears through the swinging door with a slightly smaller tray. She sets a huge platter of nachos a third of the way down the row, and another platter of onion rings at the opposite third, closer to Dean. He grabs a couple and tosses them into his bowl of gumbo before flashing Andrea his sweetest smile. “ The Dubious Duo didn’t spit in these, did they?”

Andrea winks. “ You know you scared ‘em spitless during their Bell Witch Cave investigation last month.”

“ That was _so_ much fun.” Dean smirks at the memory of his most recent prank. “ Totally worth the mud and spiders.” He glances around the table, but Andrea is already handing him a bottle of Benny’s homemade hot sauce.

“ I’ve got it, cher.”

“ You’re too good for Benny.” Dean grins, upending the bottle onto his gumbo.

“ Don’t I know it.” Andrea laughs back and spins away to take care of the other customers.

The next half hour is spent eating and drinking with sporadic conversation scattered between mouthfuls. This is what Dean looks forward to the most; this easy companionship that doesn’t know what an awkward silence looks like much less ever experienced one.

On his right, Pamela elbows his elbow and Dean looks up with the full spoon still in his mouth, brows raised in question. “ Wha?”

Pamela points her spoon at him with eerily accurate aim, milky white eyes flickering over his face in a very convincing mimicry of sight. “ You’ve got that glow about ya and you ain’t even said his name yet.”

“ Wha?” Dean repeats, nearly dropping the food from his mouth around the word. He chokes it down and tries again. “ Nobody’s glowing.” And he can’t say anything about the name because he knows whose name she’s talking about and he’s not getting into it with her tonight. Pamela is practically fucking psychic and Dean has learned not to draw her attention. But tonight is not his night, apparently, so he ups his deflection game. “ What about you and the big guy?” He points his own spoon at the very tall imposing man sitting on Pamela’s right. Dean was properly introduced to Gadreel Ezekiel -Zeke- Adler a month ago, as he was picking Pamela up from the clinic and has not exchanged anything more than a nod of greeting since. Zeke is the very definition of the _strong and silent type._

“ Oh, we’ve been getting along like a house afire. Right, E-Z baby?” Pamela grins sideways at her lover as she winks at Dean.

The stoic man nods over his bowl of gumbo. Dean wonders how the hell their relationship works when one can’t see and the other rarely speaks. Or maybe that’s _exactly_ why it works.

Pamela turns her beaming smile back onto Dean, her sightless eyes nailing his gaze. “ See. So what about you?”

“ Ain’t nothing to tell.”

“ Jess said you were practically bouncing when you came in and there was enough pep in your voice to confirm it, so… what have you and Big Daddy been doing for you to be all chipper and shit?” She laughs between nibbles of onion ring that Zeke places on the edge of her plate every few minutes.

Dean groans, making sure it’s audible enough for the blind woman to hear. “ Nothing. I just played with the kids for a few minutes before I left the house.” He stirs his thick stew, watching the vegetables and hunks of andouille surface and sink. Definitely not thinking about Cas’ bright smile or the way it made him feel all light and bubbly inside. “ They’re good kids.”

“ Uh huh.” Pamela makes a noise of agreement, sly smile still settled firmly on her face. She lifts her beer bottle and, thankfully, changes the subject. “ Think I’m gonna break out some Joan Jett tonight. How about you?”

“ Night Ranger.” Because _Sister Christian_ got stuck in Dean’s head yesterday and this might be the only way to exorcise it from his brain. And it’s always a crowd pleaser.

Two hours pass relatively quickly. The clinic group finishes up their dinners, but continues to order appetizers to share around the table. Beer and coke continues to flow freely. Including a vibrantly pink concoction that gets passed around the table, everyone using their own straws to sample the fruity cocktail. Dean catches Zeke leaning down to speak directly into Pamela’s ear and a tiny smile lifts the corners of his mouth when he realizes that Zeke is describing the crazy drink to his girlfriend.

Sam vents about his newest case. Jess laughs over the week’s patient antics. Missouri recalls her early days of residency. Alex and Stan discuss some sort of fan convention they’re both attending in a couple of months. Joshua, Missouri’s husband, compares gardening notes with Zeke. Pam curses the newest wave of anti-vaxxers.

Missouri always gets to go first once karaoke starts. She sings Aretha’s _Respect_ under Joshua’s adoring gaze and earns a standing ovation as she and her husband wave their goodbyes and head home. Jess’ number is called next and she drags Sam with her to sing _Born to be Wild._ Sam is not great, but Jess is even worse and it makes for amazing entertainment. A few others go and Dean is in the middle of a conversation about restoring old Harleys when Benny calls Pamela’s number from the stage. She performs an on point rendition of _Bad Reputation_ with Zeke deadpanning the _oh no’s_ of the chorus. Alex sings a Halestorm song with wicked abandon and afterward keeps Stan company when he goes outside to vape away his addiction. Someone from another table does a dead on Billy Idol impersonation. A drunk girl from the bar barely keeps her footing as she giggles out an offkey _Before He Cheats._

When Dean takes the stage an inordinate amount of catcalls and wolf whistles follow him and he flips off Ed and Harry in the kitchen window. The music starts up and he closes his eyes for a moment to feel the rise before the first line. Dean loves singing. He’s not big on the performing aspect of it, but he works the crowd with his usual playfulness, winking at Stan and blowing kisses to Jess. By the end everyone has their phone out, screens glowing, and singing along. Benny appears at the end, slapping him on the back for the good job and calling a break so no one has to follow his stellar performance.

There’s another cold beer waiting for him when he gets back to the table and Dean gratefully decimates it. Then Jess is pushing her second ice water towards him and he happily swallows half down in a few parched gulps.

Dean grins up at the stage as Andrea steps up to the mic to sing _Leader of the Pack_ , all the while making googoo eyes at Benny behind the bar. They have it good, Benny and Andrea. Dean had caught up on their ups and downs within a week of moving to Hunters Hollow and appreciates how they’ve stuck with each other. True love, soul mate, and all that jazz.

For a very brief time he’d thought he’d found that in Lisa, the same year of that devastating wreck. Nearly a decade before, they’d had an amazing one night stand in Cicero, Indiana when Dean was passing through on his way to bail his father out of jail, again. She was nineteen, in her freshman year of college, her whole bright life ahead of her. He was barely a year older and still looking out for Sammy and still cleaning up after John. Nine years later, he was passing through Indiana again, this time in a loaner POS of Bobby’s, and couldn’t resist the pull of nostalgia that had him looking her up and knocking on her front door. And she’d let him in. Smart, beautiful, caring Lisa Braeden. And her eight-year-old son, Ben.

When it was all over, when they both realized that a year of playing house- no matter how peaceful and happy- wasn’t what Dean actually needed in his life at that moment, Lisa had told him she understood. That it was okay. But that Ben deserved better. And Dean agreed. Just like he’d silently agreed at the beginning to go along with Lisa’s lie about Ben’s father. Because Dean knew the truth and he still couldn’t bring himself to challenge her on it. To even be mad about it. It wasn’t his right.

So he’d gone back to Sioux Falls on Bobby’s mercy and picked up the pieces of his broken life that he’d avoided for a year. He fixed up Baby. Took Lisa’s advice and went back to school. Took an interest in nursing, then pediatrics, and realized he was not only good at it, but it filled some deep seated need in his psyche to _help_ people; people who couldn’t help themselves. Every gap-toothed smile and sticky little hug helped to heal one of the many cracks in his heart.

And then he’d met Cain, two years after leaving Lisa. And Cain had been… Just passing through, grabbing a meal at Ellen’s Roadhouse. Nomadic, irregular visits. Dean never knew when he’d see the older man sitting at the corner of the bar with a Coke and basket of BBQ wings. But as the years progressed, Cain passed through more frequently and Dean found his way into the man’s motel bed on each visit. Days spent messing around in the garage, nights spent enthusiastically exerting themselves until they fell into a sweaty heap and drifted off. Weekend road trips and that one unforgettable drive to the Grand Canyon. Dean hadn’t been that happy in years. But always, Cain would eventually pack his bag, kiss Dean soft and gentle on the lips, and head back out to god only knew where. Dean never asked.

Until one day, he asked to come along. And Cain had kissed him soft and gentle one last time, even as Dean threw curses and fists.

It had been real love, Dean has no doubts about that, and losing it had devastated him. Sent him into a self-destructive tailspin Bobby and Sam had barely managed to drag him out of. Dean knows he’s lucky to have gotten out with only a Dory tattoo, a dropped assault charge, and one-hundred community service hours for drunk and disorderly charges.

And after he’d gotten his head screwed back on straight, Dean hadn’t thrown out the idea of falling in love again, he just… decided not to bother with it. And it was easy, with nursing school and working full time and helping Ellen at the bar and Bobby at the salvage yard. Dean submerged himself in work and family and those little twinges in his chest whenever Sam talked about Jess like she hung the moon and stars, well, they got easier and easier to ignore. Pushed aside by short flings and random bar pick-ups, no strings attached and no hits to his broken heart. Until those lovely blue eyes showed up in his exam room.

He can’t blame Cas for this. Won’t blame Cas. It’s not Cas’ fault he pushes nearly all of Dean’s buttons. That just thinking about the man brings a warm smile to Dean’s face. Watching Cas laugh as he swings Jack around in his arms or gives Claire a piggy back ride makes Dean feel all gooey inside. But all these weird feelings are on Dean, not Cas, and Dean sure as hell isn’t entertaining the idea of anything more than a nice neighborly friendship out of this whole situation. Despite his family and friends’ well intentioned interference.

Firmly decided, again, Dean sips at his water and hopes he can get through the rest of the evening without anymore intrusive matchmaking.

Sam is currently working his way through the last of the nachos when he shoves the plate in the halfway spot between his elbow and Dean’s. Instead of offering to share, the younger man begins with, “ So how are things with Cas?”

_**tbc…** _


	8. Aunt Meg Pays a Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas tries to avoid a conversation. Dean and Meg have a smirk off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, life often gets in the way so I will, unfortunately, be updating every other Monday instead of each week. Thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments!!!!

**Chapter 8: Aunt Meg Pays a Visit**

**September 2018  
Friday Night**

Dinner with Meg goes about as well as Castiel expected. 

She brings Black Abbey beer and complains about the Thighslappers in Castiel’s fridge. Claire pulls Meg into a few rounds of Connect Four before dinner, while Jack is mesmerized by Meg’s hair all throughout dinner. And every time Castiel meets his friend’s gaze, there is a sharp expectancy in her expression. Dean’s name is brought up solely by the children and Castiel feels a blush rise to his cheeks each time he’s forced by propriety to add his own two cents in, as it were. When the ice cream bowls are finally empty and Castiel can sense Meg’s plan to corner him in the kitchen over the sink of dirty dishes, he casually mentions the new Spongebob on the DVR and watches as the woman is dragged off to the den; a small child on each arm, a death glare aimed at Castiel. 

Castiel is ashamed of his actions, but also rather proud at being able to thoroughly frustrate Meg’s attempts at discussing the Dean Situation. Although, Meg, in retaliation, does her best to bring Dean up with the children who are more than happy to be pumped for information. So, while Castiel manages to avoid his particular problem, he _is_ forced to listen to Claire and Jack enthusiastically wax poetic about Dean’s many positive attributes as Meg grins unapologetically at him above their heads. 

_Moana_ is finally over and Jack employs puppy eyes until Meg gives in and reads his bedtime selections. Castiel picks up around the house until Meg is finished, taking Jack for his bath while the woman listens to Claire read her own books aloud. Then it’s Claire’s turn in the bath and Castiel tries to drag the whole bedtime routine out in order to escape the inevitable talking-to he’s going to get from Meg. But, eventually, both children are clean, throw peace signs at their Aunt Meg, and are soon abed. Now, Castiel has no excuse to keep him from flopping down on the opposite end of the couch from his best friend. 

“ Have you told him, yet?” Meg dives right in. 

Castiel slumps further in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, defensive. “ It’s not that easy, Meg.” 

“ Actually, it really is, Clarence,” she counters, stretching her leg and kicking his knee. “ According to the brats the sun shines outta this guy’s ass. And I looked him up on the clinic’s website. If he looks anything like his profile pic then I don't see what’s holding you up.” Meg swings her leg back to her side and tucks it under her opposite thigh. She runs a finger across her lower lip. ” I’m not even into dudes, but I’d make an exception for that mouth of his.” 

“ Dean is more than his looks.” Castiel frowns at her, pushing further into the cushions. “ He’s funny and kind and--”

“ I’ve already gotten the spiel, thanks.” Meg cuts him off, waving her hand in dismissal. She reclines back into the pillowed corner like a queen on her throne. A perfectly manicured nail taps lightly on the back of the couch, her brow arching sharply. “ Just tell him. I seriously doubt, with all I’ve heard about him already, that he’s going to flip out on you.”

“ I don’t think he’ll react badly.” Castiel sighs heavily, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Because until now, he’s been trying not to dwell on it. 

Meg’s tone is almost sympathetic when she asks,” Then what are you actually afraid of happening here?” 

“ I’m afraid…” Castiel drops his arms and twists to face Meg, mirroring her position on the couch, albeit not as casually. “ I’m afraid he’ll see me differently. That he’ll think I see him differently. That it will be even more awkward between us. That eventually, “ he pauses to swallow, the root of his fear difficult to voice. “ Eventually, he’ll pull away and this friendship, the first I’ve had in over a decade, will fade away until we’re _nothing_ more than neighbors, exchanging tense greetings at the mailbox as you once so aptly put it.” 

“ Not exactly what I said, but I get what you mean.” Meg sighs, too, though not as intensely. 

They’re both quiet for long moments. Meg stares out the window into the dark, Castiel stares at the middle couch cushion. 

Castiel should tell Meg the whole truth. It’s not that he’s afraid of losing what he currently has with Dean, though it would hurt him immensely if that did happen. What really frightens Castiel is the thought that telling Dean would take away the possibility for more. Because Castiel wants more with Dean. He knows it’s reckless and messy and so very very complicated with the children and the legal battles. Castiel shouldn’t even be thinking about any kind of relationship- sexual or romantic- until Nick Adler is firmly locked away and Jack’s adoption is finalized. A couple of years, at the very least, even with Gabriel’s legal assistance. 

But he wants more. And that scares Castiel almost as much as the thought of losing that potential something. He’s never wanted someone before, not like how he wants Dean. 

Before he met Amelia Kline, Castiel had done little more than casual flings and a few short term relationships meant mostly to explore his budding sexuality. He had fun, he made friends, but never felt the need to take any of it further. Though he was certainly curious about more. 

Castiel had loved Amelia, in his own way he was certain, but what they had together was more about comfort and expectation. Easy to convince themselves of a deeper authentic connection when everyone around them kept commenting on how well they got along. Easy to fall into two years without arguments, without hardship, without any real passion. Officially ending it had merely been the natural progression of their drifting apart. And indulging in emotion fueled break-up sex had not been the best of ideas, but he’d never regretted Claire’s conception. But, even without the sharing of a child, he and Amelia would have remained close friends. They seemed made for it. After Amelia, Castiel had gone back to the single life with much less enthusiasm than before. He scratched the itch when it arose. Did his best to avoid awkward morning afters and any emotional attachments from his partners. 

And then, there’d been Inias. Castiel had been blindsided by the young man’s naive infatuation after only a few shared nights and his clumsy rejection had been met with a shaky smile and more understanding than Castiel felt worthy of. The heartbreaking sight of Inias fighting back tears had been more than enough to dampen Castiel’s desire for any further dating adventures. He stopped seeking out company and gently rebuffed any interest shown him. And happily made do with erotic fiction and his right hand. Risk free satisfaction. 

And then, overnight, he became the single parent of two. Castiel’s libido took a nosedive due to stress and lack of privacy and he honestly hadn’t missed it much. 

Until Dean, sweet gorgeous Dean, had stabbed him with a popsicle. Castiel hadn’t been able to get the NP off his mind since meeting him, and getting to know him better as a neighbor and friend simply deepened the _want_ Castiel feels. He _wants_ Dean and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Even without the added complication of their past encounter, Castiel knows he would still be having problems with this situation.

And Meg really isn’t helping, being all rational and whatnot. “ I’ve known you a long time, Castiel, and I’ve _never_ seen you this hung up on someone before.” 

She seems genuinely perplexed by his behavior and Castiel can’t blame her; he can’t understand himself at the moment. “ I haven’t,” Castiel readily agrees. He rubs his temples, fingertips digging into the tense muscle there. “ I don’t know why I feel so strongly about him when we’ve barely known each other a month.” 

“ Some people just click, Clarence. We did.” Meg grins, idly dragging her fingers through her dark wavy hair and twisting it at the ends. “ You and Amelia. I know it takes you a while to work up romantical feelings, but it’s not like those are the only valid feelings in the world. It could just be a really good friends thing. ” Castiel squirms uncomfortably in his seat and Meg pauses, staring, until the grin drops away and her face softens into understanding. “ But that’s not what you’re hoping for, in the long run, is it?” 

Castiel is unable to respond verbally. What could he possibly say? He shakes his head, careful to avoid Meg’s compassionate gaze. 

She hums quietly in thought, then tilts her head to rest in her hand, elbow propped on the couch back. “ Personally? I think that alone should be enough reason to go after him, but, that’s just my lowly opinion. Now,” Meg kicks him once again, back to grinning. “ I won’t say anything else about it. So instead I’m gonna tell you all about what Hannah and I got up to last weekend in our dungeon.” 

“ Don’t call the spare room a dungeon. I’ve slept on that bed.” Castiel groans, overly dramatic, but happy to move the conversation off his own issues. 

“ Shut up. It’s a dungeon whenever we don’t have guests.” Meg throws a pillow at him then launches into a sordid tale of whips and chains that makes Castiel cringe and chuckle in equal measure... 

It’s nearly midnight before a yawn cracks Castiel’s face in half, interrupting his telling of Jack’s recent discovery of his penis’ elasticity. “ ‘Scuse me.” 

Meg laughs. “ Alright, old man. It’s time for me to meet Hannah at the club, anyway. I’ll let you get your tired old bones to bed.”

“ We’re the same age, old woman.” Castiel snarks back, but it ends in another yawn and ruins the effect somewhat. “ Let me check on the children and I’ll walk you to your car.” 

A few minutes later, they step outside into the warm darkness, feet crunching over the loose gravel near the stoop before crossing over onto the paved portion of the drive. Meg’s little burgundy Hyundai is parked at the bottom and Castiel had eyed it seriously through the window when she pulled up, judging the remaining amount of space in the wide driveway and finally deeming it enough for the Impala to get by with safe margins. 

He stays in step with Meg’s shorter stride all the way to her driver side door, hefting the heavy bag of leftovers from his shoulder to her back seat once she gets it open. When Castiel looks back up, Meg has her mouth open, ready to grill him again, he’s certain. 

Except there’s a very familiar roar growing in volume and a pair of headlights appears in the darkness under the trees, sweeping across the shrubbery and bare trunks. Meg turns to look the same time Castiel does, then whips back to nail him with a wicked smile. 

“ No.” Castiel puts on the stern expression he uses on unruly library patrons. “ Meg, leave. Now.” 

She’s already laughing. “ Turn tail and run then. Gonna introduce myself whether you’re out here or not, Clar-ence.” Meg singsongs his name as the Impala carefully edges down the opposite side of the driveway. It pulls to a stop outside the garage door and Meg is walking towards it before Castiel can catch her arm and force her into her own car. 

Dean steps out of the Impala, turning to look over the roof as Meg and Castiel approach him. Dean’s expression is unreadable as it flicks between Castiel and Meg, then settles on carefully flirty. And on Meg. “ Didn’t mean to interrupt an end-of-date kiss.” He winks at the dark haired woman. 

Castiel feels his stomach churn a bit, then he swallows it down with exasperation and an eye roll. Nipping this misunderstanding right in the bud.“ Dean, this is my good friend, Meg. We went to University of Illinois together.” He makes the appropriate hand gestures between the introductions. “ She’s helped me out a great deal since moving here.” 

“ Meg Masters. Psych RN, dominatrix, fair cook. Clarence’s best friend.” She gets right in Dean’s space and holds out her hand. Castiel knows this look, this little game. Intimidation. Meg’s favorite.

Dean eyes her for a second before shaking the offered hand. His smirk grows. “ Dean Winchester. Pediatrics NP, switch, world class cook. Cas’ _other_ best friend.”

It’s too dim to see, but Castiel is certain their handshake is white knuckling it now. Also, that’s a really vague thought because his brain is still comprehending Dean as a switch. Not that he thought Dean was a hardcore top or anything. Or that he’s thought about Dean in any type of sexual manner no matter how lush those lips of his are or--

“ Aww, you made him blush.” Meg’s clear voice abruptly cuts off Castiel’s erotic tangent. 

He sighs and pushes between them, breaking it up. “ You two are incorrigible.” There’s no way Meg can see a blush on his face, even in the security lights. But, dammit, she knows him so well.

“ Ooh, talk dirty to me, baby. Those big words get me all dewy.” Meg smirks.

Dean smirks back. 

It’s a smirk-off. 

Castiel groans, grabbing Meg’s wrist and heading back toward the main drive and Meg’s car. “ Meg is going home. Good night, Meg.” He drags her toward the little Hyundai. 

“ See ya, Dean-o!” 

“ Looking forward to it, Meg _an_!”

Castiel groans at the passive-aggressive lobs casually being tossed about. “ Oh my god.” 

Dean and Meg quip in unison, “ That’s what _she_ said!” 

Unwilling to continue with the duo’s increasingly friendly barbs, Castiel keeps his mouth shut and opens Meg’s driver side door. She boops his nose and he hugs her one-armed. “ Be safe on the way home.” 

Meg grins as she drops into her seat and lets Castiel shut the door. She immediately rolls down the window and pokes her head out, glancing at Dean manually pulling open the garage door down the way. “ You deserve to be happy, Castiel.” 

Castiel refuses to look where Meg is wanting, instead waving her off. “ It’s complicated.” 

“ Calling bullshit.” 

“ Good night, Meg.” 

 

She blows a kiss through the windshield before pulling off and barreling dangerously down the drive. 

Castiel turns back around to catch Dean quickly turning his head away, guilty. Had the man been watching them? Watching him? It’s a pleasant thought, and most likely wishful thinking, and Castiel dismisses it as he approaches the beautiful ebony car. He has to consciously ignore the prickling of unease at the sight of the vehicle, memories still sitting very uneasily with him. Dean is lightly jangling his key ring in one hand, other pushed into his back jean pocket. Smiling across Baby’s hood. Castiel smiles back. “ Sorry. She’s very… Meg.” 

Dean chuckles, pushing his other hand, keys and all, into its proper back pocket. The move pulls his t-shirt tight across his chest. “ Honestly, I kinda like her. Attitude is sexy.” 

That sparks an image of Dean and Meg together and it both arouses and irritates Castiel. Which is irritating in and of itself. Castiel shakes it off and arms his best weapon, firing off, “ She isn’t, and I quote, _into dudes_.” 

Dean’s face is frozen for a split second, before it relaxes into an amused grin and a snort of laughter. “ You don’t have to say, _I quote_ , if you’re physically making air quotes.” 

“ Habit,” Castiel replies dryly. 

“ So, if she isn’t _into dudes_ , “ Dean mimics the air quotes and laughs at Castiel’s eye roll. “ Then you two never… ? “ He makes a suggestive hand gesture involving his spread fingers forcefully and repeatedly interlacing.

“ We experimented together a few times in our freshman year.” Castiel shrugs, pulling up the few pleasant, but uncomfortable, memories. “ It didn’t take long for us to realize that we were better off as friends-without-benefits. And then Meg came out as a lesbian, not bi, as she originally thought, and I’m apparently a demiromantic omnisexual. According to Meg, at least. “ He shrugs again, suddenly uncertain about sharing so much of his personal information with someone who didn’t really ask for this many details. Castiel scuffs the toe of his sneaker in the gravel, suddenly nervous. “ Anyway, no. We were never really involved, not in the way you’re thinking.” 

Dean hums thoughtfully, rocking back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet. He ducks his head before asking, “ So, uhm, is demiromantic kinda like demisexual, only you know, without the sexual part?”

Castiel tilts his head to the side, mildly surprised by Dean’s curiosity in the subject. Most people either already know, or simply don’t care to ask. “ Essentially. I’ve never really been interested in having romantic relationships. And I was close friends with Claire’s mother for years before we began seeing each other as more than friends. Until recently, she was the only one I’d ever really considered… “ He trails off when he realizes what he just said. Castiel clears his throat, attempts to cover the lapse in his brain-to-mouth filter. “ I believe sexuality is fluid and I don’t really label myself, but it is nice to have some general definitions when people are open to being informed.” 

“ That’s cool. Thanks for telling me.” Dean’s voice is quiet, sincere. “ I know it’s not always easy to bring it up.” He clears his throat, slightly rougher than Castiel previously, and his gaze skitters all around Castiel without landing on him. “ I’m bi, as far as I can tell. But open, I guess, to other possibilities. And, uhm, hyperromantic? Is that a thing? I feel like it should be a thing.” Those green eyes- blazing in the security lights- finally connect with Castiel’s, albeit through his lowered lashes. Cautiously seeking affirmation. 

He almost laughs at Dean’s joking tone, but it suddenly occurs to Castiel that perhaps Dean has never had someone to openly discuss his sexuality with. 

Accepting himself and coming out are wonderful things. Dean has obviously done some research on sexual identities online, which is very encouraging. But having an actual queer person to speak with face to face, to interact emotionally, as well as intellectually, is a luxury not everyone has had. Castiel considers himself extremely lucky to have had Meg for most of his life as his partner in self discovery. He remembers Sam mentioning once that he and his brother both hail from a small town in South Dakota via Kansas. LGBTQI and their allies were most likely very thin on the ground there. Even here, Nashville is a lonely Blue dot swimming in a bigoted Red sea. 

And here Dean is, actively asking Castiel about things he probably doesn’t feel very comfortable discussing with most people. Not from a lack of trust, but because Dean appears, to Castiel, to be a rather private person who’d rather not talk about his sexual proclivities with his younger brother or coworkers.

So, Castiel swallows down a chuckle, keeps his body language open and nonjudgmental, and resists the urge to fall into excited lecture mode. “ Yes, there is such a term as hyperromantic. In fact--” A staticky cough erupts from the walkie talkie in Castiel’s back pocket. Castiel jerks, instantly berating himself for leaving the children alone for so long. He’d honestly forgotten, for a few moments. Totally unacceptable. “ I’m so sorry, Dean, I have to check on Claire and Jack.” 

Dean is nothing but understanding, nodding enthusiastically, backing up slowly toward the driver side door. “ Yeah, yeah. I should get to bed, too.” He glances back at his darkened windows. 

“ But,” Castiel catches the other man’s attention, intent on making this a beginning, not an ending. “ I’d love to talk about this more with you. Or just, talking, not necessarily about Meg’s dissertation on sexual identities in the 21st century.” He’s afraid his tone is too desperate, the joke falling flat, his expression too hopeful. But he wants this. Dear Lord, he wants this to happen. And that desire is currently at war with the growing panic at the children being alone in the house. “ If you’d like.”

Dean stumbles a bit, but recovers with a soft smile and, “ That’d be great. Uhm, maybe Sunday? You can bring the kids over and I’ll grill burgers.” 

By the end, there’s a hint of uncertainty in Dean’s voice, the shrug of his shoulders. Castiel wants to hug it out of the younger man which is all sorts of inappropriate and overly dramatic and just not like him at all. He takes a step back, heel sliding on the gravel, just to remind himself that he needs to go. “ Oh, I don’t want to impose on--”

“ I’ve finally settled into the place. It’s time I have some company that isn’t my moose of a little brother.” Dean’s laugh erases the tension in his frame, his arms loose, his smile relaxed. “ It’s the neighborly thing to do, Cas. Please?”

Even faked for humorous effect, Dean’s puppy eyes are a sight to behold and Castiel catches himself staring a moment too long. “ Only if you let us bring brownies. Claire is actually a rather good baker.” 

“ Awesome!” Dean is beaming now, hands pulled from his pockets to swing easily at his sides. “ So, uh, I’ll let you go check on the kiddos and I’ll see you Sunday.” 

“ Right. “ Castiel lingers another few seconds, before getting out, “ Good night, Dean.” 

“ Night, Cas.” Dean waves and slips back into his car, turning the engine over. 

Castiel returns the wave and forces his body to turn back toward his home, trotting up the hill with maximum haste. Keys in the locks and he’s inside, re-locking and setting up the alarm and leaning back against the door to take in a deep trembling breath. 

Because he’s reasonably certain he just agreed to a family dinner with Dean Winchester; pediatrics NP, switch, world class cook and his _other_ best friend.

_**tbc…** _


	9. Not a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Braids gone awry and an emergency pull-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments! Y'all are awesome!!!

**Chapter 9: Not a Date**

**September 2018  
Sunday Evening**

“ Dad, I don’t think this is working.” Claire turns her head in Castiel’s grip, the crooked braid skewing even further to the right. 

“ I know. I’m sorry,” Castiel sighs out his apology and attempts to salvage the overly complicated side braid. “ I believe I overestimated the progress I’ve made.” He gives up trying to correct the plaited hair’s course and gently finger combs it loose in order to start over on something simpler.

“ That’s okay. The important thing is that you tried, right? ” Claire asks, parroting Castiel’s oft repeated mantra when the children fail at some new skill. 

“ That’s right. Thank you for reminding me, Claire.” Castiel smiles, dividing his daughter’s long hair down the middle of her head and beginning a set of good old fashioned twin braids. “ We can practice Viking Warrior Braids next weekend when we have more time. “ He glances at the clock on the mantle. They have another twenty minutes before they are expected at Dean’s. Another ten before the oven timer goes off for the brownies. He can already smell the faint scent of burning charcoal, Dean apparently getting the grill ready for their dinner. 

Jack abandons his toys near the basket across the room and wanders over to watch the hairstyling process, mesmerized by Castiel’s fingers deftly weaving the long strands together. Once Castiel is finished with Claire’s braids, he notices his second child sitting nearby, tugging on his own short hair in confusion. The moment Claire vacates her spot on the floor, Jack flops down into it, staring beseechingly up at his father. “ Baid, Daddy.” 

Castiel grins and digs around in the hair basket for a moment. He finds a small soft tie- bright purple to match the whale on Jack’s hooded t-shirt- carefully gathers up the short golden locks on top of the boy’s head and secures them together in a tiny twig of a ponytail. “ How’s that?” 

Jack reaches up to carefully investigate the curl sticking up on his crown and flashes Castiel the brightest grin. “ Tane you! Taire! Taire, see m’air!” He scrambles up and runs after Claire to show off his new look. 

Castiel laughs and stands up from the couch, stretching to pop his back. He is getting better at styling Claire’s long hair into ever more complex patterns, but he had certainly overshot his skill level today, having watched the video tutorial only once before agreeing to try it for their little get-together with Dean.

Get-together. Not dinner. Not a date. A family meal. 

And deep down, Castiel knows he only attempted the dramatic hairstyle because he had wanted to impress Dean. With his daughter’s hair. Dear Lord in Heaven, save him from his own idiocy. At the very least, he hadn’t tried to dress the children any nicer than they would for school. Claire is wearing her favorite red Baymax t-shirt and denim capris. Jack’s t-shirt tops dark khaki cargo shorts; the pockets already full of Legos. Normal playtime attire. Castiel glances down at his own outfit, again wondering if perhaps it’s too much for a casual cookout. But his closet has very little that isn’t work appropriate. So he’d chosen his good jeans that are only slightly frayed at the hems and found a gray short-sleeve button-down, faint feather print scattered across the darker background. It’ll do.

Castiel rubs his eyes, then takes in a calming deep breath to tackle the sudden burst of voices and alarm beeps coming from the kitchen. 

“ Dad! They’re done!”

“ Daddy! Daddy!”

They’re actually at Dean’s door five minutes early, Castiel carefully holding the towel wrapped pan of brownies as Claire keeps her hand tightly around Jack’s. She lets the little boy knock and Jack accompanies his fist pounding with a shouted, “ Din! Open dah!” 

Castiel rolls his eyes. “ Jack, say _please_.” 

“ Pease!” Jack screams at the door. 

Castiel flinches at the volume just as the door swings open and a laughing Dean appears. The younger man is wearing unripped faded jeans and a dark green henley. Casual, but neat. Much like Castiel. 

“ That is a rockin’ hairdo, buddy.” Dean smiles and scoops Jack up, much to the toddler’s giggling delight. He turns his bright white smile toward Claire to compliment her own neatly done braids, then brings his attention back up to Castiel who can’t stop staring at the freckles on Dean’s nose, highlighted by the late afternoon sunlight.

“ Dad’s hair is nice, too,” Claire points out very helpfully. “ I like how it sticks up without any fancy stuff.”

“ I do, too.” Dean’s smile softens, smoothing out a few laugh lines around his eyes that are seemingly locked on Castiel’s. “ It always looks nice. Even without the fancy stuff.” 

Castiel can feel the pleased warmth spreading through his cheeks at the compliment. He nervously clears his throat and Dean seems to snap out of his reverie, taking several steps backward. “ Come on in! The grill is almost ready and I need a sous chef. Think you can handle it, Jack?” He looks at the little boy in his arms and Jack busies himself petting Dean’s beard as he often does when within reach of the reddish whiskers. “ Is it because Daddy doesn’t have a beard?” He casts a curious glance back at Castiel as they enter the kitchen and Dean closes the door behind them, keeping the cool air inside. September is still warm here, though the humidity has decreased considerably. Perfect weather for dining al fresco, in Castiel’s opinion.

Castiel goes further inside and sets the pan of brownies onto the cleared table, not wanting to take up precious counter space in the small kitchen. Inside, he can now hear the soft strains of classic rock floating from the living room speakers and smell the spicy sweet scent of something bubbling away on the stovetop. He chuckles at Dean’s observation. “ I believe so. He likes to scratch my stubble when he’s sleepy, but he’s not quite as fascinated with mine as he is yours.” 

“ Don’t get too attached, little man. It’s coming off when Jess has the baby. It’s just a pregnancy beard.” Dean leans into the touch though, allowing Jack total access to his whiskers; including rubbing his chin against the grain on Dean’s cheek.

“ Oh really?” Castiel is surprised by this new information. It had never occurred to him that Dean’s beard had any reason to exist other than the man looked stunning with it.

Claire interrupts his thoughts, swiping at her own face. “ Why? Is that an uncle thing?” 

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “ No, darlin’. It’s actually a daddy thing, but Mr. Sam isn’t allowed to have a beard at his office, so being the awesome older brother that I am, I did it in his place. I kinda like it, really, but it’s not great to have at the clinic. Lot of upkeep involved.” 

And that makes even more sense to Castiel; Dean doing it in his brother’s place. Castiel tries to imagine Dean without the well trimmed beard. Naked jawline sharp and smooth. Maybe just a hint of scruff. He bites the inside of his cheek to distract himself. “ What can we help you with, Dean?”

“ I need some tough little fingers to husk some ears of corn. I think Jack and Daddy will have a good time with that.” He sets the boy on the floor and places a large plastic bowl full of corn in his lap. Dean winks at Castiel, then turns to Claire. “ And a big girl to help me pat out the burgers.”

“ I’m a big girl!” Claire’s hand shoots up as though begging for the teacher’s attention. 

“ Yes, you are! Come up here and help me add the secret ingredients.” Dean pulls a stepladder from the pantry, snaps it open, and slides it up against the counter near the sink. Claire clambers up and waits patiently for Dean to return to the counter with a large package of ground hamburger and several bottles of dried seasonings. Castiel listens as they talk about school and baking as Dean shows Claire how to use the lids to measure out the spices into a small bowl, letting her sniff each one first. Dean makes a big show of hiding the identity of the seasonings, man and child whispering fervently together with bowed heads over the bowl. 

Jack is pulling hard on the end of his ear of corn, the silk coming out in little fistfuls. He stares at the strands in his fingers before watching them fall to the floor, then repeating the entire process. Shockingly, he doesn’t try to eat them. Castiel smiles and plucks an ear from the bowl, sliding his fingernail under the green edge and digging down until he can neatly rip the tough husk apart. The noise captures Jack’s attention and the round blue eyes are rapt, following every movement of Castiel’s hands, his own corn forgotten in his lap. 

Castiel continues to shuck his way through the dozen ears, the rhythmic motions blending with Dean’s low rumble and Claire’s softer whispers. Occasionally, Jack encourages Castiel with vibrant applause and, “ Good dob, Daddy!” or, “ Y’didit!” when a naked ear of corn is placed back into the bowl. When that happens, Dean looks over his shoulder and laughs at the duo on the floor. 

With the quiet music and smells of cooking and soft conversation… Castiel feels very content in this moment. Not just content, but something else, as well. Something Castiel can’t quite pin down, a silky soft thread too interwoven in the tapestry of the moment for him to pull it free for study. So he busies himself making a clumsy cornhusk doll for Jack, his thoughts lazily tipping between his son’s blatant fascination for the handicraft and his daughter’s groans at his friend’s awful jokes. 

It’s not long before the corn is wrapped in foil and placed at the back of the grill, Dean returning inside to help finish shaping the last few patties. He charges Castiel with stirring the pot of homemade bbq baked beans on the stove before they all head outside onto Dean’s small back patio.

As Dean meticulously places the burgers on the hot grill, Castiel verbally sets up a perimeter that keeps the children in sight, but away from the heated equipment. They are allowed to run between the lattice work partition that borders the patio on the right (screening it from view of the main house’s kitchen windows) to the shed on the left set at the edge of the cleared area that comprises the building’s lawn. The entire backyard slopes gently down to the edge of the woods surrounding the clearing. Castiel sprays them both with a light cloud of OFF since they're so near the treeline and sets them loose onto the large open space. He stays on the patio, though he doesn’t sit, instead leaning his hip against the table edge, keeping his eye on the children as he talks to Dean at the grill. 

Clang of the grill lid, pop and hiss, and suddenly there’s a cold bottle of beer nudging against his elbow. Castiel looks down at the freshly opened bottle, then up at Dean. 

“ I’d tell you the kids are okay and you can sit down and relax, but I don’t think you’d be into it.” Dean smiles sympathetically, eyes soft and teasing. 

Castiel does feel a twinge of guilt for not giving Dean his full attention. He accepts the beer, their fingers sliding together in the condensation before he has a good grip on the bottle, and swallows a hefty swig before answering. “ It’s ingrained now. ” Hypervigilance, his therapist calls it. Except, Castiel doesn’t actually feel the thrumming tension that usually goes along with having the children outside their semi-fortress of a home. Maybe it’s just normal parental watchfulness right now. Either way, Dean seems okay with Castiel’s need to have Claire and Jack in sight even in their own backyard. He takes another swallow, gaze tracking the children as they lie down and slowly roll down the hill toward the trees, Jack laughing maniacally the whole way. “ I try not to let my fears confine them, but… It’s hard. After all that’s happened, protecting them is practically all I ever think about anymore.” 

When he glances to the side, Dean is also looking out at the children, watching them climb back up the hill to repeat the rolling process. Dean’s expression is thoughtful (once Castiel stops staring at the perfection of his profile). “ Hey, man. I get it. And you’re keeping your shit together a lot better than most.” He ducks his head, pulls nervously at his ear lobe. “ Uh, after Mom died, Dad kinda lost it, let fear take him over. Uncle Bobby used to say that Dad wanted us to be happy, but he _needed_ us to be safe, ya know? Fear made a lot of his decisions when it came to us. Until the whiskey turned him a solid one-eighty and the results were just as bad, if not worse. That’s how we ended up living with Bobby.” He rubs absently over the left side of his chest, over his heart. 

Castiel completely tears his eyes away from his children and levels his gaze on Dean’s face, taking in the curve of his cheek and the slightly strained quirk of his smile. “ I think I can understand how things like that happen.” Dean nods silently and Castiel turns back toward the yard, wondering if he should change the topic or let it proceed naturally. He decides to give it a nudge in a happier direction. “ Bobby seems to be a man of integrity.” 

Dean chokes on his swallow, laughter and drops of beer sputtering through his fingers. Castiel doesn’t mean to, but he finds himself grinning at the younger man’s uncontrolled amusement. “ Did I say something funny?” Surely he hadn’t mischaracterized this Uncle Bobby, not after all he’s heard about him from Dean and Sam. 

“ No, no! Just, shit!” Dean gasps in a breath, still laughing as he wipes up the spit and beer from his chin with the front of his shirt. Lifting the hem exposes his torso up to his chest and Castiel swallows thickly at the reappearance of the belly pudge. And the introduction of a perky nipple. Dean drops the shirt, covering himself, aiming his bright grin at Castiel. “ Just the way you said it, all deadpan and serious. If Uncle Bobby heard himself talked about like that he’d probably smack you upside the head. But he’d be blushing, too, the old softie.” 

Castiel continues to watch Dean in his right peripheral, the children taking up most of his left. He can smell the man’s aftershave, a hint of citrus under the charcoal smoke and sizzling meat. Castiel inhales deeply, but slowly, not wanting to get caught. Jack runs shrieking by the patio, corn husk doll waving frantically in his hand. Claire is jogging after him, hands raised like paws, growling and laughing and they both dramatically fall over and tumble back down the hill. 

“ I know it’s not really my place, but… Do you need, like… Can I do anything for you?” Dean stumbles over the offer, obviously finding it hard to choose the right words. “ I mean, if you need to talk or - you don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want- but if you do then-- well, not that I’m great at the talking part, but I’m good at the listening. I think.” He’s staring down at the toes of his boots, a slight shrug in his shoulders. “ Or anything you need, really.” 

Castiel can’t help but chuckle at his new friend’s offer, along with his self-deprecating admission. But still, Dean’s given it so genuinely and, outside of the authorities and his lawyers, Castiel hasn’t spoken to anyone other than Gabriel and Meg. And always about the facts of his situation. Never how it’s affected his life. Never about him. Because he doesn’t want his brother and oldest friend to worry, doesn’t want to burden them. “ Thank you, Dean, truly, but…” He gives a similar shrug and holds the beer bottle against his middle, the condensation seeping cool through his shirt. “ Mostly, I’m just tired of being afraid. In the beginning, right after… I think I was still mostly in shock. It was easy to mumble, _no comment _, and push through the crowd and let Sam and Gabriel handle the press. I think it’s the only way I made it through the first couple of months of police questioning, courtrooms, DCS interviews. Gabriel said it was like talking to a robot; he actually made a point of telling me to loosen up a bit to give a more sympathetic presentation to the social workers on the custody case. And then I was dealing with all the reporters who were just looking for proof of my complicity. The conspiracies and rumors were perfect tabloid fodder even after the investigation cleared my name. But with Nicholas holed up in his multi-billion dollar hotel with his security detail and entourage of PR and lawyers, and me working in a public space- as a civil servant, no less- I’m the most accessible witness to satisfy their morbid curiosity. Not that they ever get anything other than, _no comment_ , from me. Meg punched one man in the nose. They don’t bother her anymore.” __

__Dean snorts in laughter and shifts on his feet, elbow lightly pressing against Castiel’s. Castiel doesn’t know if Dean is even aware of the point of contact. Or how it gives him a sense of security… Safety. That’s the feeling Castiel couldn’t identify earlier because it’s been so Goddamn long since he’s felt it. Dean makes him feel safe. But now is neither the time nor place to unpack this new baggage, so Castiel swallows down the surge of emotion and continues as he watches the children staring up into the trees at the squirrels rampaging high above. “ The snoopy reporters and Nosey Neds are more an inconvenience for me, at this point. Parenting has become my top priority. Just keeping up with Claire’s schooling and Jack’s check-ups is exhausting.”_ _

__“ That’s a lot to take on by yourself, man.” Dean shifts again, more of his bicep brushing against Castiel’s, his presence warm and vibrant._ _

__Castiel is certain he’s going to scare the man off if he keeps treating this chat as a therapy session, but he can’t seem to stop his mouth. “ I wouldn’t have made it this far without Gabriel and Meg. Even Sam has helped tremendously.”_ _

__“ What about your people back in Illinois?” Dean frowns slightly, concerned._ _

__Castiel chuckles humorlessly. “ Other than a complicated web of distant cousins- most of whom live here- Gabriel is my only close family since our brother, Balthazaar, is in and out of the country at random. My colleagues and acquaintances all sent their condolences, of course, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t kept in contact with anyone from Pontiac. And once I told the head of the religious studies department at my university what was happening, he was kind enough to tell me that I was more than welcome to come back whenever all this _unpleasantness_ , “ he makes the air quotes just to see Dean’s tiny smile, “ was finished. So basically upon Nicholas Adler’s conviction, which isn’t… isn’t guaranteed. And even if my supervisor had been willing to take me back immediately, I couldn’t leave the state, not with Jack in custody. And Claire wouldn’t let him out of her sight. She’d never forgive me if I left him here in state care, and I… As clueless as I was about parenting, I still wasn’t going to leave him. Not with Nicholas roaming free. I just… I couldn’t.” _ _

__There’s a warm heavy hand squeezing his shoulder and Castiel reminds himself to breathe. He hasn’t been that coherent about his emotional state with anyone. Not even his therapist._ _

__“ You’ve done good, Cas.” Dean’s voice is a comforting rumble at his side. “ They’re good kids. Happy kids.”_ _

__“ Thank you, Dean.” Castiel swallows again, fighting the burn in his nose. He nods and reaches out to softly pat Dean’s back in gratitude._ _

__The hand on his shoulder squeezes once more and falls away as Dean murmurs, “ Gotta check the burgers,” and he moves back to the grill to do just that._ _

__Castiel watches Dean at the grill, the line of his shoulders moving under the shirt, the slight curve of his inner thighs in the loose jeans. Then his attention is jerked back to his children, his youngest specifically, as Jack comes waddling up the hill shouting,” Poop, Daddy! Go poop!”_ _

__And just like that, the shadows of terror and doubt evaporate, like tears on hot asphalt. Replaced by more immediate concerns. Castiel is certain his own expression mirrors his son’s mild panic as he jumps from the patio and grabs Jack up, careful not to squeeze. “ Okay! Just hold on! Dean?” He double checks his back pocket for the pull-up tucked inside. Yes, he didn’t forget!_ _

__Dean is laughing loudly, waving away the smoke and waving the father and son toward his kitchen door. “ Don’t worry, I’ve got Claire. Just run! Wipes are above the toilet!”_ _

__Castiel throws the most desperately genuine, “Thank you!,” over his shoulder as he barrels into the house._ _

___**tbc…** _ _ _


	10. Not a Date, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans go awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried very hard to write Dean's version of their September Sunday dinner and it just wasn't working, so I jumped ahead to October because I like October better anyway. :) 
> 
> The Book of Tears mentioned is Robert Munsch's , Love You Forever. You can google the story behind it. 
> 
> All the thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments <3

**Chapter : Not a Date**

**October 2018  
Friday Night**

Castiel should have known this wasn’t going to work out. He’s dressed nicely; an expensive, but perfectly tailored, Tom Ford suit in dark navy- a gift from Gabriel. He’s not horrifyingly nervous; the uneasiness in his stomach is undoubtedly hunger because he had an early lunch and nothing to eat since- other than a few goldfish crackers pressed on him by Claire during snack time. And he’s actually looking forward to going somewhere that doesn’t have crayons and kids’ menus.

So naturally he isn’t. Going that is.

_> > Sick, Clarence. Can’t watch kids. Next time._

Castiel stares down at the text message from Meg on his phone and curses Fate. What a bitch, as Dean would say.

Dean, who’s currently in Castiel’s kitchen making cookies with Claire and Jack. Treats for their big night with Aunt Meg. Because Cas and Dean were supposed to be going out with Gabriel to his fancy law firm mandatory socializing event. Sam and Jess had invited Dean to get him out of the house, and Gabriel had begged Castiel to come along as a buffer between him and his on-again-off-again love/hate interest, Kali Pavarti from their Corporate Law Department.

But Meg is apparently sick and Castiel knows the woman must be very ill to cancel an obligation. In college, she had once shown up to their bowling league with two wrist casts and a hefty dose of Vicodin. Most likely, whatever ails Meg is contagious; as a healthcare employee, Meg would never expose the vulnerable to contagion. He sends back, << _Get well. I’ll bring soup tomorrow,_ and sighs heavily. Because now he has to call Gabriel and let him know that he’ll be wide open for Kali’s cold shoulder.

The phone rings once before Gabriel’s cheerfully exasperated voice answers. “ Yes, we’re still on schedule. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Castiel rolls his eyes even though he knows Gabriel can’t see him but knows exactly what he’s doing anyway. “ My underwear is none of your business. I wanted to let you know that Meg just texted me. She’s too sick to watch the children tonight.”

” NO, no, no! I need you there, Cassie!” Gabriel sounds even more desperate than usual. He and Kali must have had a recent run-in. ‘ Can’t that ominous landlord of yours watch them for a few hours?”

“ The children aren’t Cain’s responsibility.” Castiel reminds his brother. “ And besides, he’s entertaining his own guests tonight.”

“ The more the merrier, right?”

“ It’s a poker game, Gabriel. Children are not going to be welcome no matter how delightful they are.”

Gabriel’s whine becomes more high pitched and annoying. “ Kali passed by me on the way out today and the ice in her eyes nearly froze my balls off! I can’t face that again!”

“ Well, maybe Dean will agree to be your human shield.” Castiel doubts that highly, but the image is amusing.

“ Whose human shield?’ Dean is suddenly right behind Castiel, a plate of oven fresh cookies in hand. There’s a yellow striped full apron tied over his royal blue striped waistcoat and trousers, the matching suit jacket immediately draped onto a chair as soon he’d offered to help bake. There’s a tiny smudge of white flour on the knot of his tie, obscuring one of the many tiny red stethoscopes printed on the blue fabric. _“ Groomsman gift from Jess. I wear it to all the nursing conferences,”_ Dean had happily explained when Castiel remarked upon its uniqueness. In fact, Castiel learned very quickly that the entire ensemble is from Sam and Jess’ wedding five years prior and Dean has simply had the good luck to have a classically styled suit that he hasn’t outgrown.

Castiel sighs again. He should have told Dean first, before making this call. He doesn’t bother tilting his mouth away from the phone as he speaks to the man now facing him. “ I’m sorry, Dean, but Meg is sick so I can’t go tonight.”

“ I can stay with the kids.” Dean offers instantly.

Castiel is about to protest, but Gabriel is shrieking through the earpiece. ”Yes! That! Do that! You’re a saint, Winchester!”

“ Dean,” Castiel begins, determined to ignore his brother. “ You should go with your brother and Jess. Have a nice night out.”

Dean smiles, shaking his head. “ Not really my thing. I was only going because Sam said they had an open bar.” He offers Castiel a cookie. “ But you should take your own advice and go out for a night. Free booze, free gourmet food. Attractive people dressed all fancy.”

He’s happy with the fancy dressed person right here, thank you. Castiel laughs and accepts the cookie. He takes a bite, making an appreciative sound, still ignoring his brother’s begging over the phone. It’s not like Castiel wanted to go in the first place. He’d really only started looking forward to it once Gabriel had mentioned that Dean was attending with his family. So, if Dean isn’t going… then what’s the point? “ Would you like to watch a movie tonight?” Castiel takes another bite of cookie, Gabriel’s shouts disintegrating into incomprehensible babbling.

“ Uh, sure.” Dean has his own cookie resting on his lower lip, about to take a bite. He still seems a bit confused. “ I’ll ask the kids what they want to watch. ”

Castiel smiles sweetly as he addresses his immature older brother. “ We’re going to watch a movie. Have fun with Kali.” He hangs up in the middle of Gabriel’s defeated shout and turns back to Dean. “ I’ll heat up the lasagna. ”

Dean is standing there with an uneaten cookie in hand. Still confused. “ Cas, really man, you don’t have to--”

“ And neither do you,” Castiel finishes for him. He pockets his phone and steps around Dean, heading back to the kitchen to heat up the rest of the lasagna the kids had for their dinner. Amazingly, his phone does not immediately ring again. “ I can make a salad, as well.” He looks over his shoulder to where Dean is walking behind him, finishing the cookie in his mouth.

“ Sounds good.” Dean swallows and nods, then looks forlornly at his full plate of cookies. “ Guess I should give these a rest until after dinner.”

Castiel barks a laugh and snags one more cookie just to be contrary.

**XOXOXOX**

Dean watches over the lasagna and the kids while Cas changes out of his suit- and god damn, if the man isn’t all kinds of James Bond fantasies fuckable in the slim cut outfit- and into house jeans and a ratty university sweatshirt. Then Dean trots home and removes his own too snug for comfort outfit in favor of the loose jeans he’d been wearing earlier in the day and his only clean halfway decent shirt; a black long sleeve henley with a bleach stain on the shoulder that he only wears around the garage now. Laundry is top of his list tomorrow morning.

Once the kids get over their disappointment of Aunt Meg’s cancellation, they happily settle back at the dinner table with cookies and milk while Dean and Cas eat their fill of lasagna and salad. Claire and Dean discuss his mother’s cookie recipe and Jack engages Cas in a debate over the appropriate number of cookies a toddler should have for dessert. It’s warm and comfortable and everything Dean misses when he has to eat alone.

Cas insists that Dean pick tonight’s movie since Claire decided on last night’s and Jack chose the night before. After much overly dramatic deliberation and sidelong glances at Claire, he chooses _Lilo and Stitch_ , much to everyone’s delight.

Jack sits on the middle couch cushion between Cas and Dean, alternating leaning on one man’s thigh to the other’s as he expounds on the scenes of interest and melodically shouts along with the songs. Claire sits on a large floor cushion with a galaxy print, directly below Jack’s spot. Dean notices how she leans toward Cas, wrapping her arms around his lower leg, clinging to his knee. It's the only conscious behavior of anxiety that Dean’s witnessed so far, from either child; a tendency to attach themselves to the nearest adult, most often Cas.

By the time the end credits are rolling and Claire is belting out _Hawaiian Rollercoaster Ride_ , Dean has a lap full of Jack. He’d barely even noticed how long the toddler has been solidly situated in his lap, the little head resting against his chest as Jack’s hands randomly pat and scratch at Dean’s jeans. Dean tries to lean down enough to see if Jack’s eyes are actually closed, but can’t quite make it. So instead he gently jiggles his legs, lightly bouncing his thighs. “ You asleep?”

Jack turns a very impressive stink eye on him, then crawls off Dean to clamber to his father. “ Tahs, pease?”

“ Not tonight. We’ll do _Cars_ next time.” Cas gives a long suffering sigh as he whispers to Dean. “ I’m completely over Thunder McQueen.”

“ Lightning McQueen, Dad.” Claire corrects absently as she rummages through the book basket under the coffee table.

Dean can’t help but laugh at Cas’ eye roll. He slides off the couch to sit next to Claire and judge her bedtime selections. Jack spies the adult at his level and promptly joins them both at the basket. Dean watches the little boy flip through the books, one by one, serious contemplation given to each cover. “ What about this one? I used to read this to Sam when he was a baby.” Dean holds out the well loved book for the children’s inspection.

Claire immediately shakes her head. “ That one makes Dad cry.”

Dean frowns. “ What? Why?” He turns his curious frown onto Cas who is still on the couch behind them.

Cas actually looks away, cheeks pink with embarrassment. “ You haven’t re-read it in quite some time, have you?”

“ No, our only copy got left behind in some motel when Sammy was about three,” Dean admits. He hasn’t read it in a long time, but he doesn’t remember anything sad about it. “ We thought the pictures were funny.”

“ I never found it particularly emotional either, until…” Cas glances at the kids’ bowed heads and then lets his gaze fall and remain on Dean. “ Well, until I was given a different perspective on life.” He smiles now, soft and self deprecating. “ A very parental perspective.”

“ Huh,” Dean huffs lightly, staring at the nostalgic cover. He remembers his mother and sometimes his father reading this very title to him, before and after Sammy was born. It was pure luck that a few of their books and toys had been kept in the Impala when the fire destroyed their home. Dean had wanted to cry just as hard as Sammy when they realized they’d accidentally left their beloved books in a cheap roadside motel two states away. He strokes his fingers over the cover.

“ Would you like to read it, Dean?” Cas asks softly.

“ Please, Dean?” Claire jumps on the opportunity for a new storyteller. “ Please, please!”

“ Claire,” Cas begins, sounding distressed.” I didn’t mean for bedtime, I meant--”

“ I’ll read it.” Dean quickly agrees. He scrambles backwards until he’s once again on the couch. He meets Cas’ uncertain expression with a smile. “ Gotta be pretty good if it makes grown men cry.” He winks at the older man.

“ Fine, but remember you volunteered for this emotional torture.” Cas holds his hands up in surrender and gets to his feet. “ And wait until I have Jack in the bath.”

Dean chuckles and settles further in his corner of the couch- Jack again in his lap- as Cas reads two stories about hedgehogs. Then the older man takes Jack for bathtime, leaving Claire and Dean to read a book about an annoying neighbor duck and a story about whiny penguins. A discussion about more realistic problems for arctic animals ensues for a while, Claire lecturing Dean about the horrors of climate change that she’s learned about in school. Then they settle in and read the infamous Book of Tears.

“ You’re crying, too.” Claire is quick to point out when they reach the end.

“ No, I’m not!” Dean valiantly blinks away the tears and hides a sniffle beneath a cough. “ Got like, allergies and stuff.” Claire nails him with an exact copy of Cas’ Bitch Face #3 and Dean laughs through another sniff, wiping his eyes with the collar of his flannel shirt.“ Okay, you got me. You were right. Your Dad was right. It’s a kick in the chest and pulls all the heartstrings.”

Claire giggles. But then she reaches up and pats his bearded cheek, face full of sympathy. “ It’s okay for grown-ups to cry, too, Dean. Dad says grown-ups have lots of things to cy over.”

“ Very true.” Cas responds as he enters the room with Jack hefted in his arms. “ Tears are nothing to be ashamed of, no matter our age or gender.” He grabs the box of tissues from the end table and hands it over to Dean. “ I told you so.”

“ Thanks. Very mature.” Dean grumbles half heartedly as he properly dries his eyes and blows his nose.

“ Be glad I didn’t tell you the author’s story behind it.”

“ Seriously don’t want to know.” Once he tosses the tissue into the trash can Dean finds his arms full of Jack. “ Whoa there, buddy!” He catches the toddler fully, pulling him from Cas’ hold to have a more secure embrace.

“ Night-night, Din.” Jack squeezes Dean around the neck and buzzes a kiss across his chin.

“ Night-night, buddy.” Dean returns the hug and blows a tiny raspberry on Jack’s temple. “ Sweet dreams.” He hands Jack back to Cas, again dazzled by the smile on the older man’s face.

“ Okay, Claire. Your turn.” Cas watches Claire put the books back into the basket and head toward the bathroom. He follows behind her, tossing a quiet, “ Pick something to watch,” over his shoulder to Dean.

Dean waits until he’s alone in the den before dropping back to the couch and picking up the remotes. He begins clicking through Cas’ Netflix account as he listens to the quiet sounds of domestic life from the hallway.

He’s stayed late enough times to know the Novak-Kline bedtime routine. It’s actually incredibly clever. Once they read a couple books together, Cas gives Jack his bath while Claire reads on her own, then while Claire is in the bath, Cas puts Jack down. Luckily for Cas, both kids seem like good sleepers. To Dean, at least. Jack goes down easy, so Cas is back in the bathroom right as Claire is getting into the tub. Cas has admitted to Dean that he’s uncertain when he should stop assisting his daughter with bath time as she gets older, his justified concern with slip-and-falls warring with his fear of impropriety. Dean has assured Cas that Claire will happily kick him out of the bathroom when she’s good and ready to be on her own. For now, Dean is impressed with Cas’ personal compromise which has him sitting on the closed toilet lid, facing the door, waiting for Claire to ask for assistance.

It’s a short fifteen minutes later when Dean selects _Point Break_ on Netflix and Claire comes jogging back into the den in her _Moana_ pajamas.

She leaps onto the couch and throws her arms around Dean’s neck, just like her brother, rubbing her nose against his beard. “ Goodnight, Dean!” It’s practically a shout so close to his ear.

Dean laughs and hugs her back firmly, before releasing the wild child back on her feet onto the floor. “ G’night, little lady.” He holds his closed hand out for their customary fist bump, receives an enthusiastic one complete with explosion noise, and watches her sprint back toward her bedroom. It’s another five minutes before Cas reappears, dopey smile on his handsome face. Dean scoots the baby monitor to the middle of the coffee table, volume on high so it picks up the rustle of bedclothes and sleepy sighs. Cas settles into the opposite corner of the couch, visibly relaxing into the overstuffed cushions. Dean smiles at the sight and hits play on the remote, letting Keanu and Patrick give them both a brief escape from reality.

Two hours later, both men stand to stretch, joints popping and low groans punctuating the quiet. Cas chuckles, tucking the baby monitor into his back pocket and walking Dean to the kitchen door. Security system disarmed, two deadbolts and door handle unlocked. Dean is still amazed at how quickly Cas is able to implement his lockdown routine. He steps down to the gravel drive and pauses, turning to look back up at Cas standing in the doorway.

This was not a date. Even though they technically shared dinner and two movies together. With two children. That Dean helped put to bed and he’s never going to take for granted that warmth that suffuses his entire being when Jack and Claire give him goodnight hugs.

And now it feels so fucking right to lean in for a goodnight kiss, standing here under the glaring security lights. Maybe not one hundred percent romantic, but he’s feeling it all the way. And if the way Cas is sweeping a tongue across his lower lip is any indication, then so is he.

Still, Dean is all about consent.

Dean gives Cas a questioning raise of his brows, gaze flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. The pause goes on so long that Dean is about to back up and reassess the situation, but Cas suddenly goes for it and Dean is too busy re-adjusting the angle of his head to doubt the mutual mood.

Cas’ lips are dry, but soft, and he uses them like he’s trying to remember how this whole kissing thing works. Or maybe overeager, Dean can relate to overeager. He has to tilt his own chin a couple times to keep up with Cas until Dean decides to lift his hand and slide his palm along Cas’ jaw to gently keep him place. That gesture seems to be exactly what Cas needs, the older man relaxing into the position, stepping down to Dean’s level, and, oh Christ, Dean feels a hand at his waist, just resting lightly on his side steadying them both. There's no tongue, though lips are parted and Dean can taste the popcorn on Cas’ breath.

Its kinda imperfect and Dean is head over heels.

Cas is the first to pull back and step away. He's staring openly at Dean, a mix of emotions warring on his face. “ Dean… I can’t.”

A heavy weight sinks into the pit of Dean’s stomach at the words. Fuck. Too much, too fast. “ Im sorry, Cas. I sh--”

“ Don't.” Cas spills out, expression morphing fully into apology. “ You didn’t do anything wrong. I --I wanted it. Want it, but…” He reaches behind him and Dean knows he’s touching the baby monitor in his back pocket.

“ You've got a lot on your plate.” Dean finishes, nodding in understanding. He knew this to begin with. Why didn't he stick to the plan? “ I understand. And I'm still sorry.” He steps backward into the damp grass and pushes his hands into his jean pockets. “ Hey, I'm still here, though, okay? If you or the kids need anything at all, I'll come running. “

Cas’ entire aura softens, the smile on his face practically angelic. The glow of the porch light behind him adding to the effect by providing a painfully bright halo above his head. “ Thank you, Dean. You, too. I mean, if you ever need anything. I’m here.”

Somehow Dean knows they don't need anything else right now. He returns the smile and turns on heel, shuffling along the damp grass, taking the short path around the back of the house to his own back door.

Dean gets to his apartment much less jovial than when he left it. Sure he's still a bit hot under the collar because that kiss, but the joy is mostly dampened by the fact that they can’t go any further than that one lovely kiss.

Which is okay because they’re still gonna be friends. He’s still gonna protect those damn kids like they’re his own.

But he already feels the loss of what could have been. Which is basically what he has now but with cuddles and sexy times.

Dean toes off his shoes and throws himself onto his couch, leaving the light off so he can more easily see the view outside. And it makes for better moping.

He’ll give himself tonight to pout, to rail against the unfairness of his life and entertain his little fantasy of something more. Except when he gets his hand on his crotch, Dean rubs twice and nothing happens except Dean feels sick to his stomach jerking off to the embattled father of two who’s probably tottering around in their kitchen right now meal prepping Claire’s school lunches and putting Jack’s snacks into little containers decorated with _Star Wars_ characters.

“ I am a _baaaaaaad_ man.” Dean covers his eyes with both hands, scrubbing through his hair and back down over his beard until he lets them flop to his sides on the couch. No point moping in a semi dark room when he can mope while he gets his laundry and dishes done before bedtime. Maybe even watch an episode of _MST:3000_ to get his chill on.

Anything to take his mind off what might have been. And will now never be.

Fuck his life.

_**tbc…** _


	11. Time for a Baby!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween night at Hunters Hollow Public Library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments!!!!

**Chapter 11 : Time for a Baby!**

**October 2018  
Halloween Night**

Growing up, Dean had always tried to make Halloween as fun as possible for Sammy. Most motels would have a bowl of cheap candy at the check-in desk and Dean was very creative with motel room supplies and bedding to make costumes for his little brother. Once they’d moved to Bobby’s, Dean would escort Sam and Jo (Bobby’s “lady friend’s” daughter) around the neighborhood or take them to the trunk-or-treat at the local church. Then Sam and Jo were old enough to be going to parties and Dean took the opportunity to accept his own invites or just relax at the house with his uncle and new aunt, Ellen.

For this year’s Halloween, Dean is dressed as a genderswapped Ghostbuster, Jillian Holtzman, handing out candy at the Hunter Hollow Public Library.

Not that he’s complaining. Back in Sioux Falls, Dean had always volunteered to work the Halloween shift at the ER to let some other nurse enjoy the night with their kids. The night mostly involved a waiting room full of teens who failed to complete their stupid dares (or completed them to an unfortunate result) and the panicked parent who insisted there were razor blades in her kids’ candy and wanted them to x-ray the entire caboodle. But it was also prime time for hit-and-runs and violent brawls. Dean definitely does not miss those cases.

Here, in a medium sized community library, it’s been a bit hectic, but altogether a fun hour. The assortment of costumes has been endlessly entertaining and Dean had recognized quite a few faces from the pediatrics clinic. Jess and Sam are also helping out (as they have for the past four years), costumed as Jack and Sally from _Nightmare Before Christmas_ and disgustingly cute together. They even made a Zero from an old white sheet and clown nose to artfully drape over Jess’s ginormous belly to make it appear as though she’s holding the ghostly dog.

Dean’s costume is his old Spengler coverall with Holtzman’s name velcroed in place and two mismatched water pistols attached to his cardboard proton pack. A pair of quidditch goggles, with duct tape and random magnifying glasses attached, tops it all off. He’s always had a thing for brainy characters.

The highlight of his night, however, is walking through the door with Claire and Jack in tow. Claire is very obviously Moana in her brightly printed tube top (over a long sleeve t-shirt due to the damp and chilly weather) and cloth and dried grass skirt. And Jack is very obviously HeiHei in his hooded rooster onesie which makes them even cuter than Sam and Jess. But the cherry on top of this adorable family cake is Cas. Cas in black slacks and a rather snug black and yellow striped t-shirt that clearly states _This is My Bee Costume_ over his collared button up and under his usual trench coat. Cas wearing a pair of Claire’s purple sparkly dress-up wings over the trenchcoat. Cas wearing a bee antennae headband that bobs gently with every motion.

Dean busts out laughing.

Cas frowns, but even in Dean’s giddy state he can see the happiness in those blue eyes. The older man follows Claire and Jack as they run-walk toward Dean’s station near the front circulation desk. Dean squats down, two _Libraries Rock!_ stickers in hand. “ Hey, kiddos! How much candy did you bring me?”

“ You can have my peanut butter ones.” Claire eagerly digs around in her plastic pumpkin, pulling out a handful of miniature Reese’s peanut butter cups. “ I’ll trade you for your proton pack.”

Her face is dead serious and Dean snorts. He glances up at Cas to gauge his reaction to the offer, the other man seems exasperated but not ready to interfere. Yet. “ Know what? I’ll let you borrow it anytime you want after tonight, as long as your dad says it’s okay. And,” he reaches out to drop one sticker into her pumpkin and retrieve one peanut butter cup from her hand. “ I’ll do it for the bargain price of just one of these and a high-five.”

“ Deal,” Claire agrees after a moment’s thought. She dumps the leftover candy back into her pumpkin and slaps her hand against Dean’s raised palm.

“ Awesome!” Dean returns the gesture and turns his attention to the other Novak-Kline. “ How about you, buddy?” He gives the sticker to Jack, who looks it over very carefully before putting it in his own orange pumpkin. “ You keeping all your candy?”

“ Yash.” Jack solemnly nods his head. “ Teep Dat’s tandy.” Then he seems to think better of it and reaches into his pumpkin to fish out a mini Snickers bar. He pushes it into Dean’s hand. “ Dis fo Din.”

“ Thanks, Jack. These are my favorite.” Dean is beaming at the little boy, and a glance up at Cas’ soft expression causes a blush to crawl across his face. Better get that under control real quick. He tweaks the red felt rooster’s comb on Jack’s head and stands back up, stretching out the kink in his back. The homemade pack isn’t heavy, but it is awkward if he’s not standing up straight. He gives Cas a wide grin because he has the most awful pick up line about bees and honey screaming in his head but he’s not gonna be an ass like that. So instead, Dean says, “ Staying sane?”

Cas murmurs a quiet, “ Hold hands,” to the kids before looking back up to Dean. The antennae sway back and forth above his rueful expression. “ It just seems like so much… _more_ than when we were children. It’s very chaotic.”

Dean chuckles, very much feeling the same during his time here at the library.“ But fun, right?”

“ Yes. Worth the sugar high and sore feet.” Cas ruefully agrees with a lopsided smile that crinkles up his eyes.

“ Well, for what it’s worth, you make an awesome honeybee.” Dean’s smile freezes on his face because Cas brings a hand up to steady the headband and the pull of tight fabric across his chest causes Dean’s brain to stall out. He’s staring. He can’t not stare. And imagine how every line of Cas’ chest would be clearly visible through the tight t-shirt if Cas hadn’t layered it over his button-up.

Cas doesn’t seem to notice Dean’s momentary blank. He looks down at his striped shirt, tugging at the printed fabric. “ Claire insisted I couldn’t accompany them without wearing some kind of costume. I borrowed these from Garth.” He motions toward the headband as well. “ The headband isn’t too bad, but the shirt is a bit tight.

Dean swallows throat dry. He swallows again and turns to grab his water bottle from the desk behind him. “ But it looks good on you.”

“ Thank you.” Cas responds quietly, his eyes skating across the wall behind Dean’s head.

“ Dad, we’ll be late.” Claire is tapping her father’s side to gain his attention.

Dean watches as Cas startles, running a hand through his hair and knocking the headband off. Dean jumps forward to catch it, horribly embarrassed by the desperate move. But he hands it over casually enough as Cas gets himself together. “ I-I promised I’d take them around the candy stations and Claire is obviously very excited to join Rowena’s storytime and I understand this is last minute, but I was wond--”

“ Dean!? We gotta go! “ Sam’s yell interrupts whatever proposition Cas was in the middle of.

Frustrated, Dean snaps his head toward the wide hallway that leads to the Children’s Area. Jess emerges around the corner first, walking even more awkwardly than usual, both hands cradling her large stomach. Slightly pained expression on her face. Sam is right behind her, hands steadying at her back, face a familiar blank that does nothing to hide the terror going on behind his eyes.

It takes a second for Dean’s brain to catch up, screeching to a halt at the realization of what he’s actually witnessing. The frustration instantly morphs into a panic rivaling his brother’s. “ Oh shit.”

Claire giggles, then shouts, “ Dr. Jess is having a baby!”

“ But not here” Jess forces a laugh as soon as she gets a deep breath in. “ And you two are scaring the kids. Calm the frack down.”

Dean closes his gaping mouth with a click of teeth and gets a firm grip on his nerves as Sam herds Jess toward the staff hall door amidst a chorus of “ Good luck!,” from staff and patrons alike.

“ Dean, we gotta go now!” Sam tosses over his shoulder as the staff door swings shut. He is apparently incapable of calm at the moment.

Dean quickly slips out of the cardboard based proton pack and hands it to Claire. “ Okay, Claire. I gotta help Mr. Sam and Dr. Jess so I’m trusting you with this until tomorrow. Maybe even for a few days. Can you take care of it for me?.”

“ Awesome! Promise, I’ll take real good care of it. ” Claire drops her pumpkin to the floor and fumbles her way into the overly large straps.

Dean smiles, then pulls his goggles off to hand to Jack, not wanting to start a scuffle over any perceived favoritism. The boy accepts the gift with a nod and his usual laser focus. Dean jerks his gaze up to Cas. Cas is gazing back, an understanding smile on his face. Dean digs around in the pocket of his baggy coveralls, searching for his car keys, but he maintains eye contact. “ You get the kids into storytime and be safe on the way home, okay?”

“ I will, yes.” Cas nods in acknowledgment, smile widening as he places a warm hand on Dean’s arm. “ It’ll be okay.”

Dean has his keys in hand, clinking lightly against the handle on the staff door. He pauses, unwilling to move away from the sweet smile, the gentle encouragement, the firm grip on his upper arm. Except Cas is already releasing him, dropping his hand. And Dean doesn’t even think about it consciously, just catches that callused palm in his own and gives the fingers a good squeeze. “ Thanks, Cas. I’ll text you later. If that’s okay?”

“ Yes, of course.” Cas’ smile gets gummy, his antennae twitching. He squeezes back just as firmly. “ Good luck, Dean.”

“ DEAN!” Sam is shouting from the other end of the hallway, exterior staff door wide open to the chilly night air.

It’s enough to shock some anxiety back into Dean. He swats at the little foam ball on the end of Cas’ antennae- loving the chuckle it gets him- and hightails it through the staff door toward Sam and Jess; the former scared and irritated, the latter grinning between grimaces.

He’s sprinting down the hall, running the well memorized route to Jess’ chosen hospital in his head, and totally not thinking about how he basically just held hands with Cas.

**XOXOXOX**

Castiel watches some of the fear dissipate from Dean’s expression before Sam’s shout sparks a bit back into his eyes. A playful swat at his antennae and Dean disappears through the staff door. Castiel would swear his hand where Dean grabbed it is still tingly and he gently closes his fist around the warmth. Well, enough of that. He gathers himself and turns to the children. “ Let’s get good seats in the storyroom and then we’ll trick-or-treat afterwards, okay?”

“ That works. Let’s go.” Claire is already tugging carefully on Jack’s arm, getting him to leave off his intense study of the goggles Dean gave him and get his feet moving down the hall. The oversized proton pack slaps against her calves with every step.

They pass Garth just around the corner, handing out candy to a small group of costumed children. The young man is wearing a variety of shades of brown and gray with dog ear headband, paw mitts, and a painted nose. And a brown sock tail attached to the back of his jeans. He smiles at Cas over the children’s head. “ Hey, guys!”

“ Aww, you’re a cute puppy, Garth!” Claire compliments as they pass by.

Jack laughs and points. “ Puppy! Gahf puppy!”

Garth lifts a heavily mitted paw and shows his teeth in a very pathetic growl. “ I’mma werewolf.”

“ Very convincing.” Castiel grins. “ We’ll be back after storytime.” He escorts Claire and Jack through the little clumps of kids and parents until they reach the open doors of the story room near the back of the children’s area. He pauses a moment outside, scanning the interior for an empty space and appreciating the spooky decor within. The entire room is draped in dark cloth and fake spider webs, artfully arranged skulls and potion ingredients littering the counters. Castiel recognizes a fair amount of it from the Harry Potter party held in the summer and admires Rowena’s ability to recycle their limited supplies.

Rowena’s Witching Hour has apparently become a much loved tradition here at Hunters Hollow Library, the children’s librarian beginning it nearly thirty years prior when she first started working there. To the point that she now has three different sittings throughout the Haunting the Library event for the last ten years. The first one is always the most popular, parents wanting to get the younger children to bed sooner. The last one, at six thirty, has taken on a creepier atmosphere to keep the older children entertained. Castiel hopes it’s not too much for Claire who admires Rowena but has a very active imagination. For Jack, who adores Rowena and demands kissies every time he sees her, Castiel isn’t too worried.

As expected, the moment they enter the room Jack is attempting to drag Claire toward the front where Rowena is sitting on a small stool with her books and props around her. Castiel picks the boy up, returns Rowena’s cheeky wave, and finds a spot on the floor near the back wall, promising Jack a personal meeting after the storytime. He carefully settles on the floor, his back against a row of cabinets (careful his wings aren’t bent awkwardly), Jack standing up beside him to keep his eye on Rowena. The goggles are now hanging out the top of his pumpkin.

Claire flops down on Castiel’s other side, wiggling to get comfortable against the pack on her back, and people watches for several seconds before asking him, “ Did you act all crazy like Mr. Sam and Dean when I was born?”

Castiel dreads a birds and bees talk, but decides to answer this particular question honestly without the extra details. “ I was much, much worse.” He smiles at the memories. He’d been an absolute mess when Amelia went into the hospital to be induced and passed out twice during the actual birth. “ But your mother was very patient with me and once I got to hold you I felt much better.” He pulls her in for a hug that she quickly squirms out of to smooth out her costume. Castiel wonders if hearing such anecdotes would help lessen Dean’s anxiety. He’s already reaching for his phone when Rowena stands up, signaling the beginning of storytime.

Rowena is a master storyteller and her subversive retelling of Hansel and Gretel with the witch as the victim of two horribly rude children (who are burned alive in the oven instead of the witch) is both humorous and eerily relatable. She reads a more traditional storybook, _The Wee Witches Halloween_ , and for the finale, recites a Monster Protection spell over a real cauldron full of various sized bric-a-brac to hand out as talismans. The children are in awe and the parents are equally impressed.

As each child goes up to choose an item and the parents thank Rowena for an excellent storytime, Castiel keeps Jack entertained until the line dwindles down. And, takes the time to check his phone. Nothing yet.

Claire, sharp as ever, notices immediately. “ Did Dean text you?”

“ Oh, uh, no.” Castiel shakes his head to get the little frown off his face and tucks the phone back into his coat pocket.

“ ‘Probly ‘cause he can’t text and drive. Right?” Claire makes a very good point. “ It takes a long time to get to the hospital.”

“ That’s right. No phones while driving. I’m glad you reminded me, Claire.” He smiles at his daughter. She’s right, of course. Dean would have had to drive Sam and Jess to the hospital, then most likely have to return to the Moore-Winchester house to gather their things and go back to the hospital. Unless they stop at the house first before heading into the city. Castiel feels the smile lift the corners of his mouth because he seriously doubts with the level of panic happening between the two Winchesters that even level headed Jess could get them to make any side trips.

Families slowly exit the story room until the last child turns away from Rowena with a wave and Jack seizes his chance. “ Tissies, ‘Weena!” He flings himself against her side and performs a perfect _la bise_ , just like Rowena teaches all the children in order to spare her wardrobe, hair and, especially, make up.

Rowena eats it up, per usual. “ My wee chick, ye’ve grown since last week, I swear!” She ruffles the felt comb of his costume and turns to Claire for the same treatment. Claire also adds extra smoochy noises for effect. “ And you, little lady, are nearly tall as your father!”

Claire giggles, easily flattered by the red haired woman who very quickly became the most influential female presence in her life after her mother passed. “ I’m taller than Kaia now. But her big sister, Patience, is still this much taller.” She holds her hand high above her head to demonstrate the older girl’s superior height.

“ You’ll surpass them all, I’m certain.” Rowena grins and nudges Jack toward the cauldron sitting on the floor at her feet. She digs around, looking for something inside, before hiding it in her cupped hands. “ Now, I saved something extra special for you two. These talismans have an extra spell cast upon them. Monster Protection and Nightmares Begone keeps away monsters _and_ bad dreams.”

Both children are staring up at Rowena in complete awe. Even Castiel finds himself swept up in the drama. When the woman opens her hands, Castiel sees a square Mega Blok printed to look like a chocolate chip cookie and a bracelet made from dozens of small colorful rubber bands. Rowena smilingly hands the block to Jack who thanks her and tucks it into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie for safe keeping. Claire accepts her bracelet like one being knighted, complete with a curtsey and Rowena is happy to play along with her own bow. She stares at the strands of rubber around her wrist for several seconds then jolts upright as though remembering something. “ May I get one for Dr. Jess’ baby?”

Rowena’s artfully painted expression morphs into impressed eubilation. “ Why you certainly may. Absolutely!” She bends back down to rake her long fingernails- painted black with finely drawn spider webs- through what’s left in the cauldron. “ I think… I have… just… the… thing!” She triumphantly displays a rounded plastic llama from a Playskool playset. It finally occurs to Castiel that the cauldron has been filled with all the leftovers from crafts and old games and discarded toy sets collected through the months by Rowena and Garth. All properly cleaned and sanitized, he’s certain, with Rowena’s aversion to germs. Rowena waves her hand over the small toy and mumbles an incantation in Gaelic, though Castiel doesn’t understand half of it, before placing it solemnly in Claire’s outstretched hand. “ Now, when you present this token to the wee bairn, you must very gently place it at their feet, look them in the eye and say _gra_. Not too loudly, but with your whole heart.”

Claire nods her head, fingers closing around the plastic llama in a protective fist. “ Got it.”

Castiel smiles at the familiar Gaelic word for love and his daughter’s somber vow. He also inwardly applauds Rowena’s clever ceremony that keeps the toy away from the newborn’s mouth until it can be sanitized again. “ I’m certain Dean will bring the baby home to visit very soon.” Actually he figures it’ll be a few weeks at the very least, germs and all. But he can do what he can to make the time pass by more quickly. Maybe they can make a baby basket or parent care package of some kind to give to Dean to pass on to Sam and Jess.

Claire carefully places the llama into the front of her Moana top, trapping it firmly against her chest. The safest place possible. Then she takes Jack’s hand and turns to her father. “ We have to trick-or-treat before they close, Dad.”

“ I’ll walk with ye” Rowena stands, setting the books on the stool before smoothing her dress. Her smile is wide and predatory, aimed squarely at Castiel. She loops her arm through his, giving him no choice but to crook his elbow and escort her through the building. Castiel keeps his eye on Claire and Jack as the older steers the younger toward the candy stations. Garth’s is first and as the children chat up the least scariest werewolf in history, Rowena casually brings up, “ Your man is quite handsome.”

Castiel sighs heavily and glances around the immediate area. He can’t escape Rowena’s nosiness, but he can keep it limited to just the two of them. “ He’s not _my man_.” He hopes her hand will fall away as he performs the air quotes, but she keeps a firm grasp at his elbow. “ He’s a friend.”

“ Yes, I could see that.” Rowena replies sweetly. “ But I could mostly see the way you two were sputtering like twelve-year-olds with first crushes.”

“ … Were you watching the security cameras again?” Castiel frowns.

Rowena has the good graces to look- falsely- offended. “ Of course not! That’s against policy.” She points him down the hall toward the next station at the adult reference desk, where Aaron is handing out candy- dressed as a random Hufflepuff- as Benjamina - in head to toe Slytherin garb- helps an older patron with their Kindle. “ However, I _was_ watching the cameras to make sure one of our repeat offenders was actually checking out her DVDs and not simply walking out with them, and just so happened to catch the scene you two were making before that handsome moose panicked at his wife’s first contraction.”

Castiel does not answer right away. He tells himself he’s listening to Claire and Jack as Aaron quizzes them on their favorite Harry Potter creatures. But he knows he’s avoiding Rowena’s sharp attention because he doesn’t want to explain that little scene, as Rowena called it, with Dean. Castiel had simply wanted to ask Dean over for a movie. Nothing special, nothing new. He’s invited Dean over for dinner and movies several times since the younger man moved next door. And Dean has invited them over to his place a few times for the children to play on his gaming consoles ( Claire is an ace at Mario Kart) and share his amazing grilled hamburgers. So no, it’s nothing out of the ordinary to ask Dean over.

Except, the children would be going to bed fairly soon after Dean would have arrived. Leaving just the adults. Alone.

That is also not totally unusual, Dean often stays past the children’s bedtimes and he and Castiel watch something not approved for little ones or sometimes simply talk.

But this would have been the first time that Castiel invited Dean over specifically for adult alone time. Nothing inappropriate, of course! No. Just… He had wanted to see Dean. Spend some time with Dean without his attention being pulled in a million directions. A quiet night with the kids safe in bed and a superhero movie playing softly in the background while they discuss classic cars and apiology...

Domestic bliss.

“ Stupid,” Castiel mutters under his breath. How stupid of him. How cruel, after telling the younger man barely two weeks ago that he wasn’t in a place to pursue any extracurricular relationships. And watching a movie after the kids go to bed doesn’t always equal romantic opportunity, but Castiel had wanted it to. Still wants it. Because he’s stupid. And selfish.

“ Pardon?” Rowena asks sweetly, looking up into his face with her own knowing expression.

“ It’s stupid. Attempting to start a relationship at this point in my life.”

“ Och, it’s mad to start a relationship at any point in life, Tweetie Pie.” Rowena waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. “ Causes wrinkles.”

“ I have too many responsibilities, too many unknowns already.” Castiel clarifies, for himself almost as much for Rowena. “ I don’t even know if we’ll stay here after the trial is over.” He remembers to keep his voice low, not wanting Claire to hear about his own fears for the future.

Rowena clucks her tongue as they follow the children to the Teen Room, both adults greeting Aaron and Benjamina as they pass by the desk. Charlie has decorated the Teen Room with some of her simpler LARPing props and set pieces, creating a very convincing medieval atmosphere. She’s chosen to wear her royal garb, every bit a queen in her robe and crown. Claire demonstrates a bow and Jack follows suit though he looks puzzled by his sister’s actions. Charlie squeals, clapping, and basically divides the rest of her candy bowl into their two pumpkins as Claire asks her about the coat-of-arms on her shield and Jack curiously fingers the gold edging on her robe.

“ Nothing’s a sure thing, Castiel.” Rowena sighs lightly, smiling at the little group across the room. “ And life’s too short and carpe diem and all that rot.”

They bid farewell to Charlie and circle around through the periodicals and adult fiction. They skirt around Frank so as not to disturb his current mumbling rant about jack-o-lantern homicides. Jack forces a sudden and intense toddler monologue about beards onto Chuck who looks so uncomfortable under the boy’s scrutiny that Castiel takes pity on him and lures Jack away with a another library sticker.

Without any further mishap, they arrive back at the entrance. Ezekiel, from circulation, has taken over Dean’s spot at the front desk. His Boris Karloff era Frankenstein’s Creature is very imposing and only the oldest trick-or-treaters approach without encouragement from their chaperones.

Rowena pats Castiel’s arm before letting go. “ Well, that’s all I have to say about it.”

Castiel gives a rueful smile. “ For now.”

“ For now,” Rowena affirms. Claire and Jack have orbited closer as the adults have spoken, standing a polite distance away and watching Ezekiel with a morbid fascination. Rowena pets each on the head and promises to see them at next week’s storytime. She tosses a mischievous smile over her shoulder to Castiel and saunters back down the main hall toward the Children’s Area.

“ Has Dean texted yet?” Claire shifts her pumpkin into the crook of her elbow and takes Castiel’s hand.

There have been no vibrations from his coat pocket. “ Not yet. But, like you said, it will take him quite some time to get Mr. Sam and Dr. Jess settled at the hospital.”

They give their last waves and exit the building, stepping out into the chilly air. Claire shakes her hair from her face. “ When he does, will you tell him we have something for the new baby?”

“ Of course. He’ll be happy to hear it.” Castiel squeezes her hand and the smile on his face doesn’t feel quite so forced.

They pass a young woman with long dark hair, blue dress, and devil horns headband. She has a few books in her hands and her ruby lips are curved in a laugh. “ Great costumes, guys. Awesome antenna.” She winks at Castiel.

“ Uh, thank you.” Castiel stumbles over the unexpected compliment. From Dean it had made him feel warm and safe, from this stranger he feels decidedly creepy, but he remains polite.

“ You’re costume’s cool, too,” Claire adds.

“ Thanks, princess.” The woman grins at the little girl and enters the library.

She’s vaguely familiar to Castiel, undoubtedly a patron, but one he’s only seen in passing. He’s sure he will remember next time he sees her. Until then, he has other thoughts to occupy his mind.

Like Dean. Castiel can do this. This is good. Being friends with Dean. No sex. No with-benefits. Just good friends. The children can have another caring adult in their lives without him complicating it with more. He doesn’t have to drag Dean into his problems.

Then his phone vibrates as he’s sliding into the driver’s seat, Claire and Jack properly strapped into their respective childseats in the back, and Castiel can’t help but laugh at the appearance of the ambulance emoji followed by a thumbs up emoji.

Yes, this is good. He can do this.

**XOXOXOX**

It’s nearly six in the morning when the last text comes in. It’s an image of Dean holding a newborn swaddled in the ubiquitous blue-and-pink hospital blanket. Taken straight on- so not a selfie and most likely taken by a nurse- the photo encompasses Dean from the chest up. The bottom half of the image is filled with the blanket and one of Dean’s broad hands, a red faced infant peeking out with large dark eyes under the striped stocking cap. The top of the frame cuts off the top of Dean’s head at an angle, his face downturned toward the precious cargo. And this small portion of the photo is what has Castiel mesmerized. Because Dean’s eyes are red and watery, skin splotchy above the beard, as though he’d been crying hard only moments before. But the look of adoration and awe in those wet eyes, the smile beaming on his face as he gazes down at the baby… _Beautiful_ is the only word Castiel’s brain can come up with and it feels woefully inadequate.

So enamoured by the image, Castiel almost forgets the actual text message that has apparently been sent by Jess, unbeknownst to Dean. >> _Hey Cas, it’s Jess. Sorry it’s so early, but…_ Castiel reads the stats accompanying the new little human; time, weight, length. Then the name. And now Cas better understands the evidence of copious amounts of tears left on Dean’s expressive face.

He replies with a congratulations and reminder to rest, before plugging his phone in to charge and settling down for a couple hours of sleep himself. The lovely image comforts him as he drifts off.

 

_**tbc…** _


	12. Uncle Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Dean Winchester is born quarter past five in the morning, November 1st.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for everyone who reads, kudos and comments! Y'all are awesome!!! <3

**Chapter 12: Uncle Dean**

**Beginning of November 2018**

For the next ten hours Dean is in a near constant state of high alert. 

He doesn’t stay in the hospital room much. He’s not here as a birth coach or doula or whatever Sam’s supposed to be doing as he pants in rhythm next to the hospital bed holding Jess’ hand. Her mother, Alice, on the side is being much more calm about it all. No, Dean’s here to be a gopher so Sam and Alice can stay in the room with Jess and they don’t have to worry about anything other than having a baby. Once he drops the couple off at the hospital to meet up with Alice, Dean heads back to their house to pick up Jess’ previously packed care bag with her and the baby’s things and Sam’s overnight bag that’s been in his Prius for the past four months. Dean even takes an extra moment to properly strap in the new carseat into the backseat of Baby. 

After that, Dean has basically two jobs. One is to run back and forth between the cafeteria, the nurses’ station, and Jess’ room. Two, is texting or calling everyone on the list Sam and Alice made in order to spread the word on the birth’s progress. He does so while Jess is getting her epidural, glad to have something to distract him from the needles and lines. Dean also spends much of his time correcting people who assume he and Sam are a gay couple here with their surrogate, which happens way too often. 

There are also quite a few text conversations with Cas, despite the late- or early- hour. By two in the morning, it’s time for Jess to start pushing and Dean stations himself in a corner, out of the way. Yawning and texting and laughing and cringing at Cas’ anecdotes about his ineptitude during Claire’s birth. It passes the time and Dean loses track of everything until the doctor and team of nurses come in for the grand finale. In half an hour, a burst of cheering and an angry cry erupts from the room’s occupants. 

Alexander Dean Winchester is born quarter past five in the morning, November 1st. Dean literally sobs in Sam’s arms when Jess reveals the infant’s name. And for once he doesn’t deny it afterward. 

He makes it through his half shift at the clinic only by the grace of God and two pots of coffee. Luckily his day’s patients are nothing more than a few cases of too much Halloween candy and some standard check-ups. He gets texts from Sam every hour, updating him on Jess and Alex. Each message brings a smile to Dean’s face. Bobby and Ellen have joined the running family group chat, and even Jo has thrown in her own _awwws_ for the pics. The texting with Cas continues in between patients and keeps him awake enough to finish his afternoon without mishap. Once home, Dean reluctantly says goodnight to his neighbor and his brother and crashes the moment his head hits the pillow. 

Dean has Friday off and takes his time that morning removing his pregnancy beard. Part of him is sad to see it go, but he can’t deny the happy sensations when the cool November air hits his naked cheeks. Afterward, he gets things ready at Sam and Jess’ place, before heading to the hospital at the appointed time. Jess texts him to let him know that her mom has run to the airport to pick up her stepdad, Jim, (unhappily out of the country during the birth and just now able to get stateside) and will meet them back at the Winchester-Moore homestead. Dean makes adjustments to his errands, then arrives at the hospital bearing gifts; an enormous basket of snacks and some of Cain’s products that he drops off at the nurses’ station, donuts and overly sweetened coffee from Dunkin Donuts for the new parents, and a special baby blanket for Alex to come home in.

“ Knock, knock! Everyone decent?” Dean taps the bottom of the closed door with his foot, his hands and arms fully occupied.

“ Hold on!” Jess’ voice calls from inside. A moment later, the door swings open and Dean is surprised by Jess, not Sam, standing on the other side. The woman instantly spots the DD and relieves Dean of the drink carrier. “ Knew I married the wrong brother.” 

Dean laughs as she shoves a straw into her mouth and turns to lead him further into the hospital room. “ Told ya. I’ve got all the looks, charm, and sweet goodies.” 

“ And baby smooth cheeks.” Sam is sitting in the recliner near the windows, bottle feeding Alex. “ Okay, it’s weird seeing you without the beard, man.” He frowns at Dean’s barely stubbled chin. 

Dean kicks his brother’s foot as he passes by on his way to the little countertop in the corner. “ I didn’t even have it that long,” he protests as he drops the donut boxes onto the counter and settles next to Jess on the edge of the hospital bed. He offers her the smaller box filled with cinnamon Munchkins. 

“ Kinda like stepping back in time, right?” Jess gratefully accepts the box and slurps her drink, head tilted toward Dean in thoughtful study. “ I swear it takes ten years off your age. Laugh lines notwithstanding.” 

Alex responds with a very loud burp. 

“ Thatta boy!” Dean praises. He reaches behind him and grabs the plastic Kroger bag neatly folded on top of the boxes. Sam groans and Jess laughs the moment Dean pulls out the ultra soft flannel blanket and unfolds it for them, distracting them from making fun of his freshly shaven face. 

“ What?” Dean pulls an expression full of mock offense. “ It’s traditional.”

“ It’s plaid.” Sam pulls his own bitch face.

“ It’s fucking cute.” Jess has the last word as she plows through the donut holes, using her clean hand to rub the edge of the material between her fingers. “ Wow. Super soft.You want to put it on him now? He’s finished eating and I know you want to hold him, so I’m not going to feel guilty.” She nails her husband with a very pointed look. “ And neither are you.” 

Sam hesitates, but eyes the coffee and donuts with obvious desire. “ Yeah, okay. Here, trade.” He hands the empty bottle to Dean and takes the blanket, loosely wrapping it around Alex as Dean sets the bottle near the sink. 

Dean grabs the large iced coffee and holds it out to Sam. “ Trade again.” Sam takes the plastic cup and Dean gleefully takes the swaddled infant from Sam’s shoulder. He maneuvers Alex into his arms to cradle gently against his chest. For his part, Alex stares up sleepily and melts Dean’s heart all over again.” Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” Alex opens his mouth in a silent yawn. Dean feels like his heart is about to burst. “ Yeah, me too.” He glances at Sam and Jess, both dressed to go, both now slumped in the hospital bed with their snacks. “ Bet Mommy and Daddy are ready for a nap, too.” 

“ No idea.” Sam says around a mouthful of powdered donut. Jess just groans. 

Dean laughs softly, old faded memories swimming in his head. “ Some idea.” Too quiet for Sam to hear because Dean isn’t about guilt tripping over their early years. Instead, he ambles over to the glider in the corner of the room by the window and eases himself onto the heavily padded seat. “ I’ve got the day off and a full night’s sleep so feel free to konk out for a bit.” 

“ Hospitals aren’t really napping kinda places. I’ve got half an hour before another nurse comes in wanting to make sure I’ve pooped one more time. “ Jess grumbles. “ But thanks anyway.” 

Dean grimaces. “ TMI.” He rocks slowly in the glider, letting the motions lull Alex into a trance. “ Then I can watch him once we get everyone home today, until Alice and Jim get settled. You’ll feel better in your own bed and you’ll both be ready to tackle tonight.” 

Sam looks as though he’s about to decline, but Jess, mouth full, elbows him in the side. He rubs the sore spot and turns his dark circled eyes gratefully toward his brother. “ If you really don’t mind, that’d be perfect.” 

“ Done,” Dean nods in agreement and shifts the baby in his hold, positioning the small body in the wide seam of his thighs, both hands supporting the back and head so Alex is blinking up at him head on. “ When are they going to release you?” Dean puffs his cheeks out. Alex appears mildly interested. 

“ As soon as the paperwork gets back.” Jess answers after a big swallow of food. There’s a smidge of jelly on her chin that Sam swipes off with his thumb. “ We’re both cleared and the pediatrician’s finished up Alex’s paperwork, but Dr. Ramdeen had an emergency call early this morning, so she hasn’t gotten around to my papers yet.” She slurps half her coffee up. 

There’s a knock on the door and Jess calls out permission. A nurse enters the room with a wheelchair. He’s nearly as tall as Dean, twice his width and breadth, and looks like he could bench press Baby without breaking a sweat. “ Hospital Uber for Moore-Winchester, party of two.” 

Dean remembers he’s the nurse who passed him a cold wet washcloth to clean his snotty face up before Dean held Alex for the first time; Nurse Clif. Nurse Clif apparently remembers Dean, too, because the first thing he says to him is, “ Well, you look a sight better than the last time I saw you.” 

“ Yes, sir. I even remembered a box of tissues for the car. ” Dean heartily agrees, returning his teasing grin. 

Nurse Clif pats his shoulder, bending down to look at Alex. Again, Alex is mildly interested. “ He’s been pretty laid back here. I hope that keeps up at home.” The big man sends his smile toward Sam and Jess, chuckling at they struggle to swallow their mouthfuls to answer. He waves a dismissive hand, the universal _Don’t Worry,_ and continues, “ Dr. Ramdeen finished your paperwork. It is signed, filed, and official. We are now legally booting you from the premises.” 

“ Hallelujah!” Sam throws his hands in the air, both holding food and drink. 

Jess gives two thumbs up. “ You’re awesome, but I want my bed.” 

Nurse Clif laughs outright. “ I hear that.” 

Sam and Jess both put their food down and give out gratitude and farewell hugs. Dean gets up from his seat, Alex still held securely- and suddenly very intent of Dean’s face- and gives the nurse a firm handshake. When he pulls back, Nurse Clif jerks a thumb at Dean’s clean shaven cheek. “ Shoulda left a little for the winter, dude.” He traces his own gray beard, chuckling. 

“ Honestly, I might let it grow back, but I’m enjoying the babyface for now.” Dean rubs his naked jawline, still marvelling at the lack of hair after so many months. 

They pack up the leftovers and all Jess’ things, Dean loaded down with bags like a pack mule. Sam holds Alex as Jess and Nurse Clif talk shop, wheelchair cutting smoothly through the halls. 

Once they get off the elevator in the lobby, Dean sprints ahead with the bags to bring Baby around to the pick-up point. It’s quick work to stow all the gear in the trunk, drop the diaper bag next to the car seat, and exit the parking lot. He hears Nurse Clif’s appreciative whistle when he pulls up to the curb a minute later. “ Beautiful machine, man.” 

“ Most badass first ride you can ask for.” Dean grins, stroking a finger along Baby’s recently washed and waxed hood. 

Sam puts on Bitchface #6. “ I thought you were bringing Jess’ car.” He opens the back door, but Dean steals the baby and pushes Sam toward the curb where Nurse Clif is helping Jess stand from the wheelchair. 

“ Get your wife into the front seat. I’ve got Little Dean.” Dean ignores his brother’s grumbling, all three returning Nurse Clif’s happy wave as he wheels away. 

Sam continues the moment the nurse is around the corner and he’s holding the front door open for Jess. “ I can do it. I’ve been practicing, you know.” 

“ I know. You borrowed one of Claire’s dolls for it.” Dean slides into the back seat and carefully divests Alex of his blankets until only the footie onesie is left. This one is blue with sea otters playing across it. “ And you diapered it, too. Pretty good for a newbie.”

“ Sam, let the man relive his glory days.” Jess is already buckling up, shifting slightly on the pillow Sam placed in her seat. 

Dean can’t see Sam’s expression, but there’s a pause, and Jess pulls her husband down for a kiss that he eagerly returns. Jess is creepily perceptive, as always. Dean remembers John showing him how to buckle baby Sammy into his one and only car seat the morning they left that first motel. It’s hazy, but there had been many more instances until Sam outgrew it and they didn’t have money for a new toddler sized one. So Sam shared Dean’s seatbelt, Dean’s arm tight around him. 

He thinks of it now, as he eases Alex’s small body into the cupped seat. Careful of tiny fingers and loose fabric, Dean buckles and adjusts the five-point harness until it’s perfect and then covers the baby with the blankets, tucking in the edges. “ There you go, big man. Snug as a bug in a rug.” He checks the seatbelt anchoring the base one more time, then scoots out to let Sam have his place. Now that he can see Sam’s face, he can see why Jess was eager to kiss it off. Sam has that stupid fond smile and soft eyes look on. The one he learned from Dean but Dean’ll never admit it. “ What? Gassy?” 

Sam punches him lightly on the shoulder. “ Jerk.” 

“ Bitch.” Dean aims for the younger man’s gut. Sam flinches, of course, and retaliates with a slap that just barely grazes Dean’s arm as he jumps out of reach and jogs around the Impala toward the driver side. 

He’s driving his family home and his heart is about to burst from happiness. 

_**tbc…** _


	13. Pretty Sure She Knows Where to Bury a Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calls are coming from inside the house...

**Chapter 13: Pretty Sure She Knows Where to Bury a Body**

**November 2018  
Friday afternoon**

Castiel smiles when his phone buzzes, vibration muffled slightly by the stack of folders beneath it. It’s from Dean, again. And Castiel honestly doesn’t mind in the least.

He’s off the reference desk for the remainder of his afternoon because Benjamina is working with a practicum student, Dorothy Baum. And Charlie has been hanging out all day at the adult desk, making it a bit crowded for Castiel.

After okaying it with Benjamina, Castiel had retreated to his own desk in the workroom to gather some more resources for his upcoming programs. And check his phone for texts. Since Halloween night, Dean’s texts have taken on a nearly manic quality, all emojis and exclamation points and caps. And lots of photos. Not that Castiel is complaining. The fact that someone like Dean, who works with children every day, can still be so euphorically excited about an infant is rather heartwarming.

Castiel opens the messenger app and pulls up the long running conversation with Dean.

It’s a video this time and he puts his earbuds in, not wanting to disturb Aaron at his desk across the way. It takes a moment to load, then Jess’ bright laughter is pouring through the speakers. The image comes to life, a naked Alex filling the frame, one of Dean’s hands resting on top of the little belly. The camera slowly pans up to show Sam through the open bathroom door, bent over the sink, sucking water directly from the faucet and spitting. Gagging loudly.

Then Dean’s voice, close to the camera’s speaker, “ Rookie move, Sammy. Rookie move.” Sam doesn’t pause in his mouth washing, but replies by blindly flipping his brother the bird. Dean chuckles and the video ends.

Rookie move, indeed. Castiel swipes through his own photos and finds a picture from last year. Gabriel had actually managed to catch a much younger giggling Jack in midstream, Castiel leaning over the changing table with his mouth firmly clamped shut as pee drips from his chin. Castiel remembers that day; he’d been tired, new parent tired, but not emotionally fragile like so many days before and after. He’d felt enough like himself to give his brother an impressive stink eye and middle finger, both perfectly captured by the camera.

He sends the photo to Dean with, << _It happens to the best of us,_ and a laughing emoticon. Castiel likes emojis, but he still feels more comfortable with the simple pictographs he first learned to make back in the day.

He sets his phone down and removes his earbuds, intent on being productive even if he’s not quite feeling it today. He hasn’t checked his work email since this morning and decides it will be a good way to pass a few minutes. The program slowly comes to life on his computer, allowing him to enter his username and password after several stalled attempts.

At the very top, sent just a few minutes ago, is an email from _BDL69@gmail.com_.

Castiel feels the dread sink into his body, cold settling heavy in his chest, breath trapped there. The emails had slowed for a while after he’d made the special folder for them, sometimes a couple weeks going by without any word from the ominous sender. Castiel had never taken the situation to Charlie, hoping, so desperately, that the person had grown tired of the lack of response and moved on to more enticing prey. But now, it seems, the pause may have been merely a chance to lull Castiel into a false sense of security.

He forces a measured breath and opens the message.

_You looked great on Halloween! Jack’s HeiHei costume was super cute!_

He makes an actual choked sound in the back of his throat, loud enough for Aaron to look up in concern. “ You okay? Go down the wrong pipe?”

“ Yes, thanks, “ Castiel replies automatically, eyes locked onto the screen where the words are frozen so innocently. Two enthusiastic compliments, from a friend or even an acquaintance, would be happily received. But this… He feels threatened, cornered, pushing toward panic. But he swallows it down, adds the email to the proper folder and signs out of his computer. Then Castiel gets up, walks across the workroom, plasters a small smile on his face and pokes his head through the adult side staff door.

Charlie is right where she was an hour ago, sitting in an extra chair pulled up between Dorothy and Benjamina behind the desk. So engrossed in her conversation with Dorothy, she doesn’t look up at Castiel’s appearance. But Benjamina does, with a friendly eye roll toward the other two women.“ Hey, Castiel?”

“ May I borrow Charlie for a moment?”

“ Please, do.” Benjamina grins, nudging her shoulder against the red head’s to get her attention.

“ What?” Charlie elbows Benjamina back, but turns around, catching sight of Castiel in the doorway. “ Oh! Sorry, Cas. What’s up?”

“ Sorry to interrupt, but some computer assistance would be much appreciated.” Castiel keeps up his usual lowkey smile.

“ Yeah, sure!” She smiles brightly and hops up, looking back at her current interest. “ Remind me to show you the website. It’s ah-fracking-mazing!” She giggles, backing up and bumping into her chair, nearly tripping into Castiel. Something about the awkwardness reminds Castiel of Dean and his smile morphs into something a bit more genuine as Charlie laughs and stumbles her way past Castiel and into the workroom. Several of the usual patrons have been watching, most with varying degrees of amusement in their expressions. Except Frank. Frank is never amused.

Castiel nods to Dorothy and Benjamina ( who are both grinning madly) and ducks back into the workroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. Aaron has his headphones in, one of their many mandatory training videos playing on his computer, his actual attention focused on the phone in his hand where he’s scrolling through Instagram.

Charlie is leaning against a tall filing cabinet just inside the room, dejectedly banging her forehead against the upper drawer. Castiel gently pulls her away, turning her to face him. She lifts her begging puppy eyes to him and asks in a pleading voice, “ Was it really bad? Did I, like, totally blow it?”

Castiel takes pity on her, despite his own problems, and shakes his head reassuringly. “ You were, what I think they call, _adorkable_.” He makes the finger quotes in honor of Dean.

“ Really?” Charlie begins moving toward his desk.

Aaron never looks up.

“ Really,” Castiel repeats, following her across the room. He realizes where she’s headed and softly asks, “ Could we do this at your desk?”

Charlie glances up at him in confusion, but nods and they both veer right to enter her area of the far end of the workroom. Charlie slumps down into her desk chair and scoots over enough for Castiel to pull one of the nearby step stools next to her. She logs into her computer, shaking out her hands and wrists as she waits for the desktop to load. Getting in the zone. “ So, what’s the problem?”

Castiel is watching the spinning color wheel on the screen as he eases himself onto the low stool. He waits for it to disappear and the familiar image of Charlie posing with some famous actress fills the space, then carefully gathers his words. “ If I show you some emails, could you tell me who sent them?”

“ Uh, read the sender address?” Charlie stares at him as though he’s lost his senses. There’s a long pause where they stare at each other and Castiel can see it in her eyes when something clicks in her brain; a quick blink and dilation. “ They’re not normal emails.” she whispers, then they both glance at Aaron. He is still immersed in travel influencers.

“ No.”

“ Threatening?”

“ Very likely.”

“ Harassment?”

“ Most definitely.”

Charlie pulls up Outlook and lets Castiel sign into his account. He opens the folder of menacing emails and moves away for Charlie to do her thing. He speaks quietly as she opens several emails and scans their contents. “ I didn’t think much of them at first, but they kept arriving even after I blocked the address. Then they came more often and then they were more specific to me. And today…” He reaches over to tap the screen over the most recent email.

Charlie opens it, reads, and gasps. “ Is this the first one that mentions the kids?”

“ Yes,” Castiel confirms. “ I would have come to you sooner, otherwise. It was easier to ignore when I was the only target.”

The woman nods in agreement, but remains silent as she continues to open and close emails, seemingly at random. After a few moments, she pulls out her personal laptop and boots it up, connecting it to the work desktop. Then she selects a dozen emails and her fingers fly quickly over the laptop keys. The screen fills with pop-ups and text scrolling by at an alarming rate. It means nothing to Castiel, but Charlie obviously sees something noteworthy because she taps rapid fire for several seconds and everything suddenly comes to a halt. She points to the screen, eyes flicking over the information displayed. Mouth screwing up in disbelief. “ It’s coming from inside the house?”

“ What house?” Castiel is very confused. It’s just a jumble of numbers and letters to him.

“ The old story with the axe murderer calling the babysitter from inside the house… never mind.” Charlie tucks her long hair behind her ears and buckles down, typing fast and furious as she talks. “ So, the IP address- and I’m not explaining that right now- listed for all the emails is one the library uses, which I guess isn’t too unusual since it’s a public network.” Several windows flash up on screen then disappear. “ But it also means they’d have to be within range of the library’s wifi which isn’t that great since you can’t even get it in the breakroom at the back of the building. Well. _You_ guys can’t get it,” She adjusts something on the side of her laptop and rubs affectionately along the top of the monitor. “ Okay, sweetheart, just let me in.”

Castiel is astounded, as always, at Charlie’s skills. She is scarily efficient. And the way she speaks to her computer, again, puts him in the mind of how Dean coddles his car. He waits silently while the woman works, not wanting to interrupt her thought process.

Then the screen fills with the security camera grid, each square touting a timestamp two minutes prior to his receipt of today’s email. “ Okay, so I’ve done some not so legal MacGyvering to our security system. Namely, I added facial recognition software, of my own design.” Charlie taps a few more buttons as she explains. “ Then input the timestamps on some of those emails. So the program is looking for anyone within sight of the cameras who was here each time you received an email. We can always expand the number of emails, but I think we have enough to go on. Unless,” she bites her lip, head tilted to the side to glance at him uneasily. “ It’s multiple people sending them, which I should have thought of beforehand.”

“ It’s alright, Charlie. This is a good start.” Castiel assures her.

They wait quietly for a full two minutes until all the windows disappear behind a Matches Found pop up. “ Easy breezey, lemon squeezey.” Charlie mumbles happily as she expands the newest window. “ Obviously some of these will be employees, 'cause duh. And probably a few of our regulars. Pretty sure Frank is here more than any of us.”

Castiel snickers, the accuracy hitting his funny bone just right to dispel a bit of his gloom. He waits for the window to fully load and begins identifying each photo laid out in the grid, each a still taken from the cameras. Indeed, his face is the first to show up, then Benjamina and Aaron and most of the staff. It doesn’t preclude staff, but he doesn’t want to think about a coworker doing this to him so he dismisses them for the time being. Frank is high up the list, but despite his kookiness, Castiel doesn’t believe him to be the culprit; Frank has bigger things on his mind than a passive aggressive terror campaign. There’s Chuck and Martin, again, people who have no motivation. A few other regulars that Castiel is only passingly familiar with, and-- “ Can you enlarge this one?”

“ Sure.” Charlie clicks on the thumbprint and the screen fills with various stills of the same woman. “ You know her?”

“ Not really.” Castiel frowns at the screen. “ She was coming in as we were leaving Halloween night and spoke to us. I think I’ve seen her here before, at the computer bank.”

“ She’s come to the adult desk a couple times to ask about programming, flirted a bit. I mean, I didn’t get any bad vibes from her, but I didn’t exactly get good vibes, either. I figured she just wasn’t my type.” She scrunches her face up.

“ Same here. Flirty, not threatening. But not exactly friendly, either.” Castiel quirks a tiny grin. “ Also, not my type.”

“ Glad we’re agreed there.” Charlie smirks, then it falls back into seriousness. “ But still, she’s not one of our regular regulars and she has been here, on a computer or device, each time you’ve received the emails. I can input time stamps from all the emails and either narrow it down to her face or at least filter out employees. Unless you think it’s someone here?”

“ I shouldn’t dismiss it, but honestly, I can’t think of anyone here who’d gain anything from it.”

“ What about Zachariah? This is totally his type of sleazeball move.”

Castiel hums in thought, but shakes his head. “ It is very him, but I know he hasn’t been on the premises at the correct times; he’s almost never here past lunchtime.”

“ Okay, yeah. I just wanted to nail him with something. I hate that creep.” Charlie gives a full body shudder. “ Anyway, I’ll run all the timestamps, narrow it down to her image. See if it matches.”

“ Be careful, Charlie,” Castiel warns her softly.

“ I am totally untraceable, don’t worry.”

But he is worried. This could be just a random stalker, just coincidence. But if it goes as far as Castiel believes it does, it will lead to a very dangerous man and he does not want to expose his friend to that kind of trouble. “ Still, be careful. For my own peace of mind.”

“ I will. Promise.” Charlie bumps his shoulder and goes back to her computer with renewed vigor. Within thirty seconds she has each timestamp in her system and the face recognition set to the mystery brunette. “ We’ve got a few minutes before it spits out the results, sooooo… “ She raises both brows in expectation and waits.

“ So?” Castiel is completely clueless about her desired topic of discussion.

“ You and Dean, you dope.” Charlie rolls her eyes, her whole body moving with it, and pats her knees in emphasis. “ Give me the deets. I rewatched your little episode on the cameras Halloween night and you two were totally adorable!”

Castiel sighs heavily, head dropping into his open hands, elbows resting on his knees in defeat. “ Why is everyone so interested in my love life?”

“ Because we have none of our own,” interjects Aaron from the other side of the room, head still down, earbuds still in place.

Castiel and Charlie both gawk at the young man until he looks up and returns the stare. Charlie is the first to find her tongue. “ Are you eavesdropping?”

“ Not intentionally.” Aaron shrugs and pulls the earbuds free, dropping them on his desk and crossing the workroom to join his coworkers. “ My playlist ended and I caught enough to keep my attention.” He scoots his way behind Castiel’s stool and Charlie’s chair to stand on the other side of her. “ So. Threatening emails from some creepy chick in the library?”

“ Seems like. You recognize her?” Charlie minimizes a couple windows until the original grid is no longer obscured, a dozen freezeframes of the woman filling the screen.

Aaron snorts a laugh. “ Yeah, actually I do. Can I use Karl-E on this?” He points to the desktop that isn’t nearly as busy as Charlie’s laptop. Charlie nods and moves back to give Aaron room to pull up the library back-of-house program and the public computer system. “ She’s been in here pretty regularly for the last year or so, usually on the computers, but sometimes I see her in the reading corner with a stack of cookbooks and her phone.” He types in a first name and last name into Karl-E’s patron query. “ She never has her library card, so I always have to check her out with her driver’s license... And there you go. Ruby G. Cortese.” Aaron stands with a flourish toward the screen. “ Phone number, address, email address, all you need for stalking the stalker.”

Charlie pouts. “ That was too easy.”

“ You still have to confirm that she’s been here for each email. In the meantime, let’s see what Google has to say about her.” He minimizes Karl-E and brings up the search engine, typing in the woman’s name and current city and state.

The images at the top catches Castiel’s attention because the first three are all photos of Nicholas Adler at various press conferences. His forehead wrinkles with his frown as he clicks on the close up image. It’s Nicholas from several years ago, promoting one of his company’s newest talents; a beautiful rockabilly redhead standing coldly at his side. Castiel stares at each face in turn, searching for Ruby. There’s a dark ponytail and black leather shoulder behind Nicholas and Castiel back arrows and finds a few more photos from the same event, from different angles. And there she is.

“ She looks like maybe a PA? Or part of his PR team?” Charlie guesses, her eyes flicking across the credits along the bottom of each photo. “ Yep. “ Nicholas Adler shares a joke with his personal assistant, Ruby Cortese.”” She points to a photo of just the two in question, Ruby smiling as Nicholas chuckles. “ And again. Gross.”

“ So, she works for him. Is that actually enough to get her to break the law?”

“ His people are very loyal to him. Nicholas values loyalty above nearly everything else.”

“ And yet, still very much not a Hufflepuff,” Aaron mumbles.

“ You know, I think it’s more than that.” Charlie tilts her head in thought. “ Look at how her hand is on his arm. And they’re really close when they seriously don’t need to be.”

Castiel studies the photo. “ You’re suggesting a more personal relationship.”

“ Only one way to find out.”

“ On it.” Aaron fiddles with his phone for a moment. “ Let’s see what dark past she’s hiding. Or not hiding. Wow.” He tilts his phone for the others to see the Instagram photos for Ruby G. Cortese.

Castiel stands and moves behind Charlie to better see the pictures. This Ruby is apparently quite the party girl. Most of the photos are of the young woman dressed to kill, drink in hand, mingling with equally well dressed young people, the backgrounds a rotating mix of clubs, parties, and foreign skylines. He remains silent as Aaron swipes through the timeline.

“ Go back a year and see what she was up to when she first started coming here.” Charlie suggests.

Aaron finds her profile page and finds the photos from last year and swipes through a few months prior until he stutters and swipes backward to the previous photo. “ Shit.”

Castiel stares at the photo of Ruby hanging around the neck of Nicholas Adler. It’s a selfie, slightly blurry, as though her hand was unsteady on the phone. Or maybe he jostled her as she took the picture. They have matching smiles; wickedly curved, white teeth bright and sharp. Except, where Ruby’s expression is filled with a heat that Castiel can practically see radiating from her- all flames and passion- Nicholas’ is the exact opposite. Cold. Calculating. Cruel. Textbook psychopath and Castiel doesn’t understand how this woman can’t see that. But, that’s not how abuse works, he chides himself. As much as he dislikes her, Castiel sincerely hopes Ruby will make it out of this particular relationship better off than poor Kelly.

Charlie’s quiet voice brings him out of his thoughts.“ She’s smart. This is the only public pic of them together on her social media, and while it’s definitely friendly, it’s not necessarily romantic. But I bet she’s got a private album…” Charlie turns back to her laptop, brings up Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter and a few other platforms that Castiel isn’t familiar with. “ Instagram first. Show me your secrets.”

And suddenly they’re back on the woman’s profile page but there’s a lot more visible. Including an album labeled _BigDaddyLucifer_ that practically jumps out at Castiel. “ That one.” He points to the album.

“ Okay, gross.” Charlie wrinkles her nose, but clicks on the link.

It’s like some acid induced sex dungeon flick with scattered scenes of normalcy. Ruby and Nicholas having drinks on a patio. Nicholas’ hands around Ruby’s throat. Nicholas pulling Ruby’s head up by the hair. Ruby scratching Nicholas’ chest. Ruby riding Nicholas. Nicholas giving the camera a little salute. On and on, photo after photo. Naked bodies and sadistic smiles. Drinks and parties and more drinks.

Aaron swallows audibly next to Castiel. “ You know, she scared me before. But now I’m pretty sure she knows where to bury a body. I’m certain she has buried bodies.”

“ Double eww.” Charlie clicks through several other folders, but nothing has the same damning evidence of _BigDaddyLucifer_. “ So, if she is the one sending the emails, then busted, regardless, but… Is she doing it on her own, or sending these on behalf of dickwad there?”

“ I guess that’s the real question.” Castiel mumbles, deep in thought. “ She’s bold, unafraid. She might think she’s helping him.”

“ Or she’s jealous. Seems the type.” Charlie interjects.

“ True. But, Nicholas likes to keep tight control over his employees and his partners, even his more casual ones. It’s one of the reasons Kelly left him. “ Castiel sends a silent prayer to Kelly and Amelia now, to watch after the children. “ I believe it’s more likely that she’s under his orders. Both to watch me and to send these as a way for him to contact me without breaking the terms of the restraining order.”

“I can pull up her phone records, if the number we have in her account is actually the one she’s using.” Charlie already has her fingers touching keys when the windows from before maximize and the match is made. Each pair of timestamps appears in a list, email and security footage. Ruby G. Cortese was indeed on the property, using the library’s wifi, each time a threatening email was sent.

“ What do you want to do?” Charlie asks, staring at the confirmation.

“ What can you do? Legally, I mean?” Aaron answers first.

“ Well…” Charlie stumbles.

Castiel nods, affirming his own thoughts. “ Aaron’s right. I know you can prove, without a doubt, that Ruby is the one sending the emails. But that would mean telling the authorities just _how_ you managed to do that. I don’t want you in any trouble, especially over this.”

“ I could totally--” Charlie begins a protest.

“ No. And even if we did, I don’t think a stalking case like this is going to do much more than delay Nicholas’ trial as his lawyers scramble to find a way to turn it back on me.” Castiel rubs his thumb under his chin, feeling the light scratch of stubble. It’s an oddly comforting texture.“ Besides, like you said before, this was too easy. She could have sent those emails from anywhere; her home, the office, a Starbucks across the state. But she made sure she was here and within sight each time. Because she wanted to be caught. Because Nicholas wants me to know that he has people everywhere. That I can’t escape him. “ He pauses, weighing his options very carefully. Castiel steels himself and comes to a decision. “ Is she still in the building?”

“ Cas?” Charlie already looks worried.

“ Dude, are you sure?” Aaron is also wide eyed and concerned.

Castiel nods, setting his mouth in a thin line. Charlie nods back and brings the live cameras back onto the computer screen. “ She’s in the reading corner. You want us to come with?”

“ No, thank you.” Castiel pats her shoulder, softening his features for her benefit. “ But feel free to keep watching in case she decides to drag me off to her lair.”

He feels oddly calm, walking through the staff door, hearing a snatch of Benjamina and Dorothy’s conversation, returning Max and Alicia’s quiet greetings.

And then he’s entered the reading corner, empty save for the attractive brunette casually lounging in one of the hideously patterned chairs. Ruby does not seem surprised to see him. She drops her phone in her lap and pats the seat of the neighboring chair in invitation. “ Hey there, handsome.” She’s wearing the same lipstick as Halloween night, same flirtatious smile.

Castiel chooses the chair a bit further away, facing her. He’d like to say it is completely out of spite, but the larger part of him acknowledges his choice is one of safety. His back is against a wall and he has enough distance to give himself more time to avoid any physical attack she may launch. Although he doubts that will happen. It’s not Nicholas’ game. Not at the moment, anyway.

Ruby chuckles softly as he sits, and leans even further back in her chair, perfectly secure and comfortable. “ It was the kid, huh? Mentioning Jack? To be fair, he really did make a cute chicken.”

Castiel stares coldly at her, jaw clenched so hard he feels he might crack a tooth. There’s so much rage roiling beneath the ice he’s hiding behind. To keep his calm and not be arrested for assaulting this utter bitch.

“ Yeah, it was taking too long, so I upped the ante. Thought that might set a fire under your tight little ass.” Ruby grins. “ It’s not like I was making it difficult, you know. I’d hang around for a couple hours after I sent them, just waiting to see if you’d poke your head out.” She rolls her eyes and taps a perfectly manicured fingernail- bright red like her lipstick- against the small stack of books on the table next to her. Castiel glances at the spines; all cookbooks. Ruby shrugs. “ I mean, I know you’re not one of these people that’s constantly checking your email, work or otherwise, but I mean, not a single reaction? Ever? Not a single tick or twitch or even a frownier frown than usual? ”

“ I hoped perhaps you would get bored with my non-response and move on with your life.” Castiel manages a complete sentence lacking any growl or threat. He’s moderately proud of himself.

“ I did. Get bored, I mean.” She uncrosses her legs and stretches them out, crossing them at the ankles of her very expensive boots. “ Technically, I wasn’t supposed to approach you first, but then I saw you leaving with the kids that night and thought, _what the hell_ , ya know? You’re cute when you’re flustered.” Ruby’s smiles curves sharply, her eyes hooded seductively. “ And hot when you’re pissed. I see why he likes to mess with you.”

Castiel takes a slow, deep breath through his nose, his gaze never straying from the woman’s face, and pushes on. He needs information, not bragging. “ Are we done here?” Castiel has his suspicions, but would like to have them confirmed.

And Ruby does just that. “ Yeah. Doesn’t really have the same impact now, does it?”

“ No more emails.”

“ No more emails.”

“ Do I need to file the paperwork to officially ban you from the library? Or perhaps a restraining order?”

“ On what grounds?” Ruby laughs outright. She gives Castiel a smug look. “ We both know you don’t want to out your little geek friend back there. And you need something more substantial than he said/she said to even suspend my library privileges, much less any legal action. Again, unless you want the authorities to know about Red’s extracurricular activities?”

Castiel doesn’t have an answer, because she’s right. His fingertips dig slightly into the upholstered arms of the chair. There’s nothing he can do to keep her from coming back. It’s a public space and she hasn’t publicly caused any disruption.

“ Don’t get your panties in a bunch, handsome. I’ve done my job.” Ruby swings her legs out then firmly plants her boots on the floor and stands. She makes small adjustments to her clothes, checks her phone, casual. As though ending a meet-up with a friend. “ I am gonna miss this place. Much quieter than the Nashville branches. And that Aaron guy is kinda cute.”

Castiel silently escorts her to the entry where she flips a small wave and beaming smile over her shoulder before the automatic doors close behind her. He lets out a shuddery breath he didn’t realize he was holding. In fact, now that the immediate concern has been taken care of, all of Castiel’s muscles give an ache of protest before slowly relaxing. Even as the unease in his mind threatens to swallow him up.

Because Castiel knows this is not over. And he dreads the thought of Nicholas Adler’s next move.

 

_**tbc…** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, comments! Y'all are the best!!!
> 
> This portrayal of Ruby has nothing to do with Gen Padalecki, I just like her maiden name. Gen is an awesome woman <3


	14. Friendsgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday season is upon us, starting with Turkey Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments! Y'all are awesome!!!

**Chapter 14: Friendsgiving**

**November 2018  
Sunday, Post Thanksgiving**

Castiel has a very nice Thanksgiving. 

As he learned from the previous year, November in middle Tennessee is cold and rainy. Not his favorite weather, but preferable to the early snows he’s encountered further north. Perfect weather for staying inside Gabriel’s luxury loft apartment in downtown Nashville, Wednesday night through Saturday morning. The children delight in sleeping in the guest bedroom decorated in gaudy nineties chic, Castiel allows himself to get tipsy enough with Gabriel’s top shelf Amaretto to fall asleep peacefully on the overstuffed sectional in the living room (much more Crate & Barrel). 

Thanksgiving day is spent with homemade desserts lovingly prepared by Gabriel, side dishes created by Castiel and the children, and a pre-purchased Cajun deep-fried turkey reheated in the oven. Naps and movies round out the day. Black Friday is spent baking and bingeing _A Series of Unfortunate Events_. And Saturday morning Gabriel makes the most amazing cinnamon rolls and bacon cheddar biscuits Castiel has ever tasted. His brother loads Castiel down with leftovers and sends them home before noon so he can spend time with Kali. They are currently _on_ again. Castiel and the children play around their own house for the rest of the day, happy to be lazy until tomorrow’s Friendsgiving with Dean and Cain. 

Sunday is once again gray and chilly, the previous week’s rain turned to drizzle. Castiel happily gets into a green Bob Ross t-shirt and navy pullover sweater over his slightly frayed jeans; the need to impress his neighbor thrown aside for comfort. Claire decides on her _I Wish for This_ hoodie (from a charity campaign headed by one of her favorite voice actors), galaxy print skirt, and polka dot leggings. Castiel lets Jack choose between a green dinosaur sweater and an orange dinosaur sweatshirt. Jack wants to wear them both and Castiel eventually gives in, slipping the sweatshirt over Jack’s head and tying the sleeves of the sweater around his little waist. He knows Jack simply wants to show them both to Dean and how can he deny his son when he feels the same way most days? 

His phone buzzes in his back pocket. Dean letting him know he’s on his way, Castiel is fairly certain. A quick check confirms it and Castiel leaves Jack to his toy basket and heads to the kitchen to unlock the door. He still can’t bring himself to simply leave the door open as he goes about his business, but he does stand just outside under the carport, shooting forward once Dean turns the corner of the lattice partition and taking one of the heavy tote bags. The younger man is also going for comfort; naturally torn light wash jeans, black tshirt, red plaid flannel on top. His canvas jacket flaps in the wind.

“ How was Gabriel’s?” Dean blinks some drizzle from his lashes, shifting his other two bags more comfortably. 

“ Excessive. As usual.” Castiel replies in his usual deadpan. “ How was it here?”

“ Less chaotic than usual, surprisingly.” Dean steps up into the kitchen, easing one tote onto the table and the covered slow cooker onto the counter top. “ I kept it to the basics and just made a whole bunch so they would have plenty of leftovers to take home. Make it easy on them. Alice, Jess’ mom, made her amazing pumpkin pie that she won’t give me the recipe for. Alex slept through most of the day, but I got some good pics the few times he graced us with consciousness.” 

Castiel smiles as Dean immediately pulls his phone out and excitedly scrolls through his camera roll, handing it over for Castiel to slowly swipe through the pictures. Jess and Sam look tired, but happy, as they eat over their overladen plates and pose together on Dean’s couch. Jess’ parents both smile brightly at the camera as they hold their first grandchild. There are a dozen photos of Alex; eyes closed, eyes open, scrunched face, yawning, etc. Two are of Dean holding the baby. In one, Dean is making silly faces, he and Alex both sticking their tongues out at each other. In the second, Dean has Alex at his shoulder, standing in front of the wide living room windows, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted. Castiel can practically hear the soft lullaby the man must have been singing. Would it be inappropriate to ask for a copy? Castiel decides it’s worth the risk. “ May I send some to my phone?” 

“ Of course, yeah!” Dean is hanging his damp coat on the hooks by the door. He grins so brightly, slapping Cas on the back. “ You’re family, man.” 

Before Castiel can explore all the feelings that declaration fills him with, Claire’s voice bellows through the house, “ Dean’s here!” 

It’s quickly followed by Jack’s customary, “ Din! Din loo mah sert! ” 

As his children bombard Dean, Castiel selects a photo of Sam, Jess, and Alex. A photo of Alex deadpanning the camera. And both photos of Dean and Alex. He texts them to his phone and carefully puts Dean’s phone onto the kitchen table for him to retrieve once he’s freed himself from the krakens - going by Claire’s instructions to Jack involving tentacles- attached to his legs. 

“ Glad to see the weather hasn’t gotten them down,” Cain interrupts from the open doorway, hands full of a large pan, a small bag hanging off his elbow. “ Though I suppose the rain merely escalates their energy while indoors.” 

“ Very accurate.” Castiel reaches for the pan and welcomes Cain into his home, squashing the moment of panic he feels at having left the door wide open. He’s safe. They’re all safe here. There’s a moment of shuffling to find everything a place to rest, then Castiel is calling out, “ Take your prey and show him the early Christmas present Uncle Balthazaar sent.” 

“ Paris or New York?” Cain asks over the excited voices of the children and Dean’s positive replies. 

“ New York, last week. I think he’s in Japan now. Or Italy.” Castiel heads to the fridge to get beers for his guests. “ Honestly, I usually lose track around the holidays because it’s a hectic schedule for all of us.” He pops the lids on a Black Abbey left by Meg and offers it to Cain, who readily accepts. 

“ Ohmygod, that is so _awesome_!” Dean’s voice echoes through the house, followed by the children’s laughter. 

“ What was his extravagant present this time?” Cain questions before a swig of beer. 

Before Castiel can answer, Dean reappears hauling a floppy stuffed teddy bear nearly twice his size through the living room and into the den. Claire and Jack each have one of the bear’s feet, and the sheer joy of their expressions causes Castiel’s own grin to stretch wider. Even Cain is smiling happily at the trio dragging their prize to the somewhat empty corner by the couch. As soon as it’s on the floor, Dean flops back onto it bodily, the children trapping him by folding the bear’s limp arms over his middle. Dean plays it up for laughs and Jack’s squeals are particularly delightful as Dean falls back dramatically each time Jack pushes on his chest. 

Jack eventually decides to join in the fun and falls on top of Dean. Hard head landing right on Dean’s crotch. 

Castiel sees a matching flinch from Cain at the sight, he and the older man both hunching slightly in empathy.

He also recognizes the quiet string of half-swears, grunts, and moans that escape Dean as he rolls over, dislodging Jack onto the bear and curling up protectively. Castiel has personally experienced the pain involved with a toddler-to-groin collision on too many occasions, and understands not only Dean’s pain but also his attempt at keeping his response as G-rated as possible. 

Claire is quicker than the adults, squatting down to face Dean. “ Your boy parts okay?” 

“ … yep.” The word is pushed through tightly clamped lips, Dean’s eyes scrunched closed.

“ Need some ice?” She casually pushes the bear’s loose arm away from Dean’s face.

Dean shakes his head, eyes finally opening. Castiel can see unshed tears from the doorway. “ Nope. Just need a minute. Thanks, though.” 

“ Cool. C’mon, Jack.” Claire stands and reaches for her brother, hauling him up, still laughing, and dragging him toward the couch. “ Dean needs a moment to sort himself out.” 

While his daughter turns on the television, Castiel regains himself and approaches Dean much as Claire had. He squats down near Dean’s head, glancing up once as Cain joins the children on the couch. Then all his focus is on the teary green eyes below him.

“ Sure you don’t need an ice pack?” Castiel repeats Claire’s very sensible offer. 

Dean sighs, and gingerly rolls over onto his back, hands still cupped over his crotch. He stares up at Castiel, eyes watery, cheeks flushed, and swallows before answering, “ Nah, I think I’m good. Just grazed ‘em.”

“ Your boy parts?” Castiel grins. 

“ Those, yeah.” Dean quirks a smile, takes a deep inhale, and sits up. 

There’s a grimace, but it doesn’t completely overtake the grin and Castiel breathes out his own little sigh of relief. “ Here.” He stands and holds out a hand to help the other man up. 

Dean accepts, his grip strong around Castiel’s wrist. Once Dean is standing, Castiel realizes they are very very close together. Like, kissing distance close. Feeling Dean’s breath on his cheek close. Memories of that one heated kiss only a month ago burst into his thoughts. Castiel makes a concerted effort to not look at Dean’s lips and takes a step back, his sight blurring slightly around the edges as he whips his head around to see Cain sitting between Claire and Jack, staring openly at the other two men. 

It’s a knowing look and Castiel clears his throat and makes his way back into the kitchen before his face literally burns off with embarrassment. “ Rest, Dean. I’ll get the kitchen set up.” 

Dean protests, because of course he does. “ It’s okay, Cas. I can--”

“ I’ll help. You have a seat, Dean. Recover.” Cain interjects firmly, standing from the couch with a quiet, “ If you’ll excuse me,” to the children. Jack waves. Claire gives him a thumbs up.

Castiel watches as Dean frowns, mouth open to repeat his protestations, but Cain raises a stern brow and Dean huffs over to the couch and carefully lowers himself into Cain’s spot. 

Jack instantly hugs Dean’s arm, wide eyes and wobbly lip turned up. “ Sowwy, Din.” Apparently, Claire has explained his part in the injury.

“ It’s okay, Jack. Accidents happen.” Dean ruffles Jack’s hair with his other hand, smiling down reassuringly at the little boy. “ Hey, how come you got two shirts on? You hot natured?” Completely ignoring his own layers, of course. 

Thoroughly forgiven, Jack twists around to pull on the tail of his sweater, wrenching it free of the loose knot. “Dinser, rawwwr!” He spreads it out on his lap and names each part of the yarn dinosaur as he points. Claire corrects him occasionally, but mostly she seems focused on the Great British Bake-Off episode on the television. 

Cain steps around Castiel and nudges him gently with an elbow as he passes. When Castiel looks up, the older man has the same expression as before, softened by a smile. 

They re-enter the kitchen and Castiel begins organizing the many bowls and covered platters on the biggest countertop. Blatantly avoiding Cain. Cain approaches the dining table and removes the foil from a pan of baked beans. “ Since you obviously don’t want to talk about the attractive elephant in the next room, let’s talk about something less pleasant. Like work. ”

“ Work is fine.” Castiel jumps right in, though he knows what Cain is actually talking about. After Ruby’s unmasking several weeks ago, Castiel had decided to tell Cain about the emails and had shown him images from Ruby’s public profile. Just to let Cain know what was going on and to be on the alert for Ruby, in case she decided to start hanging around the area. “ No emails. No Ruby. No Nicholas.” He takes in a deep breath, calming, as he brings a plate of baked ham and turkey to the table. “ No new forms of psychological terror, as of yet.”

“ Glad to hear it.” Cain moves along the table, removing foil and plastic and towels from the dishes. “ Although I suppose the lack of action is nearly as troubling as active harassment.” 

“ Waiting is the worst part?” Castiel gives a rueful smile, then exhales and sags under the weight of worry and the platter of assorted cranberry sauces. He steps closer to Cain, though they’ve both been keeping their voices low beneath the happy chatter coming from the den around the corner. “ Honestly, it really is. Nicholas is not going to give up on getting Jack. Even if he is actually convicted and put away, he’ll continue to use his influence on his followers. Sometimes I doubt we’ll ever be left in peace. ” Castiel stares down at the blobs of deep purple-red jelly and feels a sudden wave of sickness. A dreadful certainty. “ I wish I’d killed him that day,” he whispers hoarsely. “ I tried, you know. Not just in self defense or even to protect the children. But in a rage, an absolute wave of fury at what he’d done to Amelia and Kelly. Right before the police intervened, I had gotten the hammer from him, had gotten him on the ground, and I was going to…” Castiel trails off, the memory still overwhelming even after nearly two years. 

“ No one would blame you if you had, Castiel. And still desiring it now, I don’t know anyone who would blame you for that, either.” Cain squeezes Castiel’s shoulder, warm and firm. “ But I also think if you had, you would not be the same man right now. The man the children need and love.” 

The nauseous cold that had swept through Castiel dissipates just as quickly under the older man’s kindness. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed the assurance that such violent thoughts, that split second of intentional action when he’d raised the hammer high above his head, didn’t make him unworthy of the two precious people entrusted to his care. 

Castiel swallows thickly, nodding, getting out a quiet, “Thank you,” as he lifts his gaze to meet Cain’s empathetic blue eyes. “ For everything you’ve done for us.” 

“ And will continue to do.” There’s a shared moment of companionable silence, before Cain pats the man’s back and changes the topic. “ Now, let’s talk about you making heart eyes at my hot ex-boyfriend.” 

Castiel swears softly under his breath and bats the man’s comforting hand away. Cain chuckles and doesn’t pursue his blunt segue, instead finishing setting up the food table. And Castiel is grateful for the teasing as he follows behind Cain, small smile on his face, placing serving utensils into each dish. 

**XOXOXOX**

“ Can I see Alex again?” Claire makes it all of five minutes before asking Dean to share more photos of his nephew. 

“ Sure, I got some new pics over Thanksgiving.” Dean reaches toward his back pocket before he remembers that he gave the phone to Cas earlier. “ Hold up. Left it in the kitchen.” His crotch is still a bit tender, but he doesn’t even flinch when he stands from the couch and enters the kitchen in search of his phone. There’s a sudden silence between Castiel and Cain and Dean can’t help but think he just walked in on them talking about him. He shrugs off the unease and returns Cas’ bright smile with his own when the older man hands over his phone. 

It’s timed out and Dean deactivates his lockscreen. The picture of him singing to Alex in front of the windows is still pulled up. Did Cas save a copy of this one for himself? The thought brings a heat to Dean’s cheeks and he coughs lightly to disrupt the stupid grin spread across his face. The kids haven’t moved and Dean eases back between them. He scrolls through his albums and pulls up the one dedicated to Alexander Dean Winchester or _AwesomeAlex_ as Dean has labeled the album. 

Claire carefully leans toward Dean to see his phone. Drawn by the movement, Jack leaves off petting his sweater and also maneuvers over Dean’s lap. Dean catches him before the boy can inflict another hit to his groin, lifting him bodily and holding him in the air as he asks, “ Claire, scoot over so you can sit together.” 

She does so without comment, and Dean settles Jack between Claire and his thigh. He would normally let Claire scroll through on her own, trusting her with the phone and to not go snooping through his other photos. Not that he has anything scandalous on his phone. Anymore. But while he trusts Claire, he understands Jack’s fine motor skills are still developing and doesn’t want any accidental swiping or deleting. So he throws his nearest arm over the back of the couch and leans in to hold the phone between the kids so both can see as he slowly flips through from the beginning. 

Claire asks questions, often the same ones she has before. Jack points, without touching, and sometimes repeats Claire’s questions. They slowly advance from Alex’s time in the hospital to his first day at home, then random moments over the past few weeks. Claire recognizes Jess’ parents and reminds Jack who they are when their images pop up. Jack squeals, “ Dahttah Jiss!,” whenever Jess is shown and insists on calling Alex, “ da baby.” 

The Thanksgiving day photos come up and both kids are delighted at the new pics. Claire again points out the people and Jack repeats the best he can. Dean gives them details about his holiday and gets a thorough retelling of the Novak-Kline holiday experience. “ That sounds pretty awesome.” Dean grins at them, closing his camera app once they both get their fill of the photos. 

“ It was. I really like Uncle Gabe. He always has the best food.” 

“ Unga Gay gud foo,” Jack solemnly agrees with his sister. “ Ah da foo.”

Dean bites down his laughter at Jack’s pronunciations. Instead, he ruffles the boy’s hair. “ I look forward to trying some of his leftovers today.” Jack is looking very intently at Dean’s phone again and Dean asks, “ You want to see more pictures?” 

“ You wanna see _our_ pictures?” Claire interrupts before Jack can respond. Then turns her question on Jack. “ You wanna show Dean our pictures, Jack?” 

“ I’ve seen your pictures, Claire. Remember?” Dean grins at her, tugging on one long curl. “ But I’d love to see ‘em again, if you want.” She sat at Cas’ laptop the first time he came over for dinner and put on slideshow after slideshow of family photos. Dean had loved the way Cas blushed and stammered over some of the more embarrassing ones of himself when he was younger. 

Claire shakes her head vehemently, yanking the curl from the man’s hand. “ No, not those! Our _angel_ pictures!” 

It takes a moment for comprehension to sink in, but then Jack is fully onboard with the idea. “ Dat mama! Taire mama! Din see pwitty mama!” 

Mama. Their mothers. He’s seen a few framed photos around the house of the two women; sometimes together, always with one or both of the kids. Claire seems excited to show them off, proud even. Dean’s grin instantly softens into a gentle smile, his gaze as sincere as possible when he looks back at Claire. “ I’d be honored to see your special pictures,” he tells her without a hint of teasing. 

“ Cool! Stay here!” she orders before scrambling off the couch and heading toward a short bookshelf tucked into the corner beside the fireplace. 

Dean watches as she pulls an honest-to-god photo album from the top shelf and brings it back to the couch. She sits on the other side of Dean, laying the heavy bound book into his lap. “ It’s too heavy for Jack to hold, so a grown-up’s gotta hold it,” she explains. 

Jack shifts against Dean’s side, but doesn’t try to clamber over him. The boy merely taps the simple dark green cover and repeats, “ Dat mama an Taire mama an-hells.”

“ Angels.” Claire corrects patiently. She reaches over and opens the book, letting the wide cover flop into her own lap. “ That’s Mom and Aunt Kelly when they were little. Mom was my age and Aunt Kelly was Jack’s age.” She’s quieter now, though no less enthusiastic as she tells Dean about each picture. 

Dean listens with rapt attention, letting Claire guide him through the album. Jack occasionally interejects his own opinion, but he seems mostly content to just look and listen to his sister’s running commentary. Sometimes Dean will ask a question or make a comment to get Claire to open up a bit more, or to smile when it seems like she’s getting a bit too down. That always seems to happen when they come across a photo that has obviously been cropped to exclude a person near Kelly. 

Eventually they get to photos that also contain Cas and both children perk up at the sight. Claire has endless stories of her father’s clumsy antics and Jack babbles on about Cas’ gummy grins. Dean can’t fight his own grin at the happiness on display in the images. Even Kelly, who must’ve been going through hell with Nicholas at the time of some of these photos, looks light and carefree with her sister and ex-brother-in-law, Claire and then tiny newborn Jack in her arms. 

They reach the last photograph, a full 8x10 in a paper frame, very obviously child-crafted. It’s a close up of Amelia and Kelly, hugging each other tightly, laughing smiles on their faces. Below the paper frame, in the wide margin of the album page, is a simple sentence in silver Sharpie on the black paper, printed in all caps. 

_WE LOVE YOU, CLAIRE AND JACK!_

“ I miss Mom,” Claire sighs next to him. “ Jack’s too little to know his mama, but I miss Aunt Kelly, too. She was really nice.” There are no tears, no sniffles. Just a resignation too complete for someone so young. 

Dean feels his heart breaking the tiniest bit and gets his arm around the little girl. He squeezes Claire against his side. “ I miss my mom, too. And my dad. We’ll always miss them, but we know that they love us and that they’re proud of us. Right?”

Jack is quiet, but leaning over Dean’s lap and the book. At first, Dean thinks he wants in on the hug action, but then the little hands are clawing at the back pages of the album. Dean slips his fingers behind the last page in the album and flips it open. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut, all the air rushing out in a sharp exhale as Jack points and tells Dean, “ Fafa.” 

It’s Nicholas Adler. 

It’s not even a personal photo, but one of the publicity shoots from years ago, long before Jack’s time. Black and white, printed out on regular copy paper. No adornments. No name or title written in the margins. 

“ Dat Fafa.” Jack taps the book and looks up at Dean for acknowledgment.

Dean swallows down his own emotional response at seeing the picture. Cas had told him, not too long ago, that Jack’s case worker had discouraged Cas from having Jack call him Daddy before permanent custody was granted. _”To avoid confusion,_ Cas had explained, _“ But he’s basically just copying Claire, so we compromised and the case worker was satisfied._ ” 

This must be the compromise Cas had been talking about. A picture of Nicholas Adler that Jack calls father even though he doesn’t really understand the distinction. Not at the moment, anyway. To Jack, it’s just the last picture in the book. But to Claire… 

The girl handles it much better than Dean would have expected. Claire frowns at the picture but her voice is fairly even when she says, “ That’s Jack’s father. But he isn’t nice.” And she leaves it at that. 

“ Yep. Jack’s father.” Dean agrees casually. He waits for Jack to nod and pull on the back cover to close the book, before pulling the boy close in a hug. “ But who’s your Daddy?” God, that sounds so wrong.

“ Daddy.” Jack pulls the book open again and flips until he finds a picture of Cas. “ Daddy, Din. Dat hn Taire Daddy. Siwwy Daddy.” He points to a photo of Cas making a silly face at the camera. It looks like it was taken at Claire’s first birthday. 

“ Daddy is silly, isn’t he?” Dean smiles at the little boy. Then he remembers that the kids have never seen the photo he keeps in his wallet. “ You want to see a picture of my mom and dad?” Claire readily agrees and Jack seems open to it, so Dean reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his ratty old wallet. The brown leather is cracked and one fold is hanging on by a thread. He should replace it, but it was a thirtieth birthday gift from Bobby and Dean can’t let it go. The kids stare in rapt attention as Dean pulls a yellowed photo from behind his driver’s license. He has several larger photos that he eventually managed to have framed nicely, collage style, and is hanging on the wall in his living room. But this small one he’d kept in his wallet. Alongside an even smaller photo of Sam in his high school cap and gown. “ This is my mom and dad. And that’s me.” He points to the sandy haired toddler in his mother’s arms. A younger, kinder John Winchester hugging them both. Dean holds onto the fading photo just as tightly as he does the faint memories of those better times. Because it hadn’t always been dark and hopeless and Dean needs to remember that, for his own sanity. 

“ You were funny looking,” Claire says in a decisive tone, breaking Dean from his nostalgic reverie. 

Jack immediately picks up on it. “ Din loo funny! Din funny!” He cackles maniacally until Cas comes back into the den to see what the commotion is all about. 

The grin on his face causes Dean’s own smile to stretch wider and it stays in place as he and the kids are called in to load up their plates. 

 

_**tbc…** _


	15. Adventures in Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's first sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor age/timeline correction: Jack is about 2 ½ years old, turning 3 in 2019. 
> 
> Songs referenced:  
>  _No Rain_ by Blind Melon  
>  _Just a Girl_ by No Doubt  
>  _Fade Into Me_ by Mazzy Star

**Chapter 15: Adventures in Babysitting**

**Early December 2018  
Saturday Night**

“ Boys night in, big man!”

Alex stares at Dean with his dark blue eyes, tiny face scrunched in a laugh. Or a poop. Dean will find out eventually. The baby is snuggled happily in a bouncy seat on the floor at the edge of the kitchen, out of range of Dean as he cooks up his dinner on the stovetop.

“ Gonna have manly food. Watch some skin fliks. Tap a keg. The works.” Dean is still making faces at his nephew from across the room, even though he knows the infant can’t see him clearly. But Alex is gleefully reacting to Dean’s overdramatic voice, spitting and grunting and vocalizing in his new baby ways. It gives Dean endless joy to watch the tiny infant squirming in his seat, so many memories of Sammy coming back to him.

Alex kicks his legs. Dean laughs and turns back to the pot of bubbling chicken cacciatore soup on the stove. “ Yeah, you’re right. Excess went out with the 80s. We’ll just have dinner, turn on some Dr. Sexy MD, and maybe get some cleaning done. How’s that sound, huh?”

Alex mewls softly. Dean accepts it as a yes. “ Awesome. I’m gonna be the coolest uncle you’ve ever had, big man.”

His evening goes about as planned. Alex is ready for his bottle before Dean is halfway done eating his bowl of soup. Alex is not impressed by the sounds of _Dr. Sexy, MD_ and Dean flips through the channels until he finds MTVClassic; _Nineties Nation_ seems to settle the infant’s cries. Dean shrugs. It coulda been Top 40. He manages one load of laundry before Alex is again demanding his attention to change a full diaper. Then it’s bath time. Or rather, shower time. Dean steps into the shower with a hand towel around Alex’s middle to keep the slippery infant securely in his arms. He washes Alex with a super soft cloth and lavender scented baby wash, careful to keep the shower spray out of his face. Once the baby is clean, Dean wraps him in a dry fluffy towel, places him in his unused baby tub just outside the shower door (clear glass so he can still see), and quickly gets himself washed up.

Both clean and dry, Dean chooses a threadbare AC/DC t-shirt and red flannel pajama pants, thick socks to keep his feet warm on the hardwood floors. For Alex, he picks out a onesie with Harry Potter icons across a green background from his stash in a bottom dresser drawer.

Then it’s bottle time again and Dean is honestly a bit bored. Chill, but bored. All this baby stuff seemed so much more exciting when he was a kid watching out for Sammy. So he pulls his phone out with the hand not cradling Alex in his lap and begins scrolling through his social media sites. Nothing interesting. Dean could text someone. Like… Cas’ number is pulled up in messenger before Dean even finishes the thought.

_< < you n kids doin anythin rn_

_> > Getting ready for bedtime stories. What are you doing?_

_< < watchin alex while hi parents make another baby_

_> > Date night? Or sleep all night?_

_< < my guess is sleepin, yall wanna meet lil dean_ \-- Dean deletes that last because it sounds way too much like he’s talking about his dick... _alex_

_> > Claire is ecstatic. And aggressive. Jack wants to see you. Also aggressive. _

_< < doors unlocked, alex is awake n ready 2 entertain_

_> > We’ll be right there :) _

Dean is still giggling over the emoticon in Cas’ last text when he hears a soft knock on his kitchen door before the light scratch and squeak of it opening. He calls out, “ In here!”, from the couch and tilts the bottle higher for Alex to easily suck down the last few drops. For a moment, Dean had been afraid that Alex was about to settle into another ten minute post bottle cat-nap, throwing off his entire sleep schedule, but the burping process has fully awakened him and those bright eyes are wide and searching for the source of the soft shuffling of feet.

“ Din!” Jack stage whispers as his sister shushes him just as loudly before they’re even in the living room.

Dean chuckles, still watching Alex as he puckers his little lips beseechingly. “ You don’t have to whisper, buddy. He’s excited to see you, too. Aren’t you?” Dean grins at Alex’s hard stare, wiping up the strands of spilt milk and saliva, then looks up as his visitors circle around his couch. “ Hey, Jack.”

The boy is walking as quickly as his chubby little legs will let him without actually running. Claire is right behind him, in one of Cas’ old hoodies and blue leggings. Jack decided on unzipped footie pjs over his play clothes; varying blue swirls on his pajamas, red shirt underneath. Cas is wearing his usual grey lounge pants and university sweatshirt. Dean thinks the entire group looks incredibly cozy.

Jack slides around the corner of the couch and immediately climbs up beside Dean. Only to stop short at the sight of Alex in his usual spot; aka, Dean’s lap. The look of utter confusion on Jack’s face has Dean tilting his head back for a full belly laugh. Alex jerks and stares up at his uncle.

Cas apparently sees it, as well, because his grin is about as wide as Dean’s ever seen it. When he gets his breath back, Dean carefully shifts Alex against him, letting the baby recline back against his stomach and chest, chubby cheeks facing out toward their visitors. “ Jack, this is Alex. Say hi.”

“ Yoo baby, Din?” Jack is still frowning, one hand braced against the back of the couch as he kneels beside Dean. Keeping his eye on the usurper.

Dean shakes his head, then raises Alex’s fist to wave at Jack. “ No, he’s not my baby. He’s Dr. Jess’ and Mr. Sam’s. But that makes him my nephew and my little buddy. Like you. You’re my little buddy, right? ”

“ Yiss, Dat Din’s buddy.” Jack nods his head slowly, then drops onto his bottom, wiggling until he’s touching Dean’s thigh. Dean reaches over and side hugs the little boy who is still staring at the baby with mixed emotions.

Claire is much more decisive on the matter. “ He’s not cute.”

“ Claire, we don’t always have to voice our opinions.” Cas sighs and edges around the girl to get a better look at the baby. “ Besides, Alex is just as cute as any other newborn. Hello, Alex.” He leans down and softly pets the little round belly, smiling his gummy smile. Dean feels his own grin respond in kind. It’s fucking infectious.

“ That means he’s not cute.” Claire confirms, squeezing between her father and Jack’s feet hanging off the couch. “ But, he’ll grow out of it. Right, Dean?”

“ I don’t know. Sam’s pretty goofy looking even at thirty-five.” Dean makes a show of doubtful thought. “ But maybe Alex will take after Dr. Jess instead. She’s a total babe.”

As much as Jack does not like not being in Dean’s lap, the little boy is having a good time touching the tiny cloth covered feet and watching Alex squirm. Dean smiles at the interaction and tilts his head toward the other end of the couch. “ Take a load off and stay awhile, as my Uncle Bobby would say.”

“ Believe we will.” Cas steps back and eases onto the couch, careful not to disturb the other occupants. Claire has decided to keep standing, only moving to lean over the couch arm on the other side of Dean.

“ Hey, Sam and Jess really appreciated the package you got them.” Dean knows his brother and sister-in-law have sent Cas thank you texts, but he’d like to re-enforce the gratitude for the tote bag of Jack’s barely used hand-me downs and two packs of gourmet coffee for the new parents. “ I’ve got a few outfits here, for emergency changes. Cute as hell.”

That small, self deprecating smile crinkles the corners of Cas’ eyes. He shakes his head. “ Jack has outgrown so much, so quickly, I haven’t even had time to make a Goodwill run. “ He reaches out to tweak Jack’s foot. Jack mumbles a no. “ I’m glad they were able to make use of them. I told them if there’s anything else they need to let me know before they purchase anything. Save some time and money.”

“ Thanks, man, really.” Dean shifts slightly onto his left hip, giving Claire more room on that side. Her long hair is hanging free, right within Alex’s reach, but he seems content to just watch the wavy blonde locks instead of snatching them up like he does with Jess. And just as often, Sam.

Then Claire jerks back and reaches into the kangaroo pocket of her borrowed hoodie. “ I almost forgot!” She pulls out a small plastic llama and leans over the couch arm again. Dean watches, fascinated, as Claire places the llama on Dean’s thigh, near Alex’s feet. “ Gra,” she exhales the single syllable with an intensity Dean’s only ever seen on the faces of ER nurses trying to find a usable vein. Alex kicks a bit, but is mostly just mesmerized by the long hair still fluttering nearby. Claire nods, seemingly satisfied, and nods again at Dean. “ You’re welcome.”

“ … Thank you?” Dean stares at the girl, then down at the toy perched precariously on his leg. He has no idea what he just witnessed.

“ Claire, would you mind putting Rowena’s gift in Alex’s diaper bag?” Cas is smiling softly at his daughter, amused and affectionate. “ Right over there.” He points to the star printed backpack tossed into the recliner by the window. “ That way it won’t get lost before he gets home.”

“ Good idea,” Claire agrees. She grabs the llama from Dean’s leg and heads over to the diaper bag.

Dean turns a questioning look to Cas, who one-shoulder-shrugs in the opposite direction of his lopsided smile. “ Rowena made protective talismans on Halloween. Claire asked to give one to the baby.”

“ Oh, awesome. Thanks, Claire.” The washer’s cycle alarm begins to buzz and Dean frowns at the interruption. “ Okay, big man. Bouncy seat time.” Just saying it causes Alex to fuss. He’s definitely more of a hands-on kinda baby.

“ I can hold him, Dean.” Cas instantly offers.

There’s genuine desire in Cas’ expression and Dean doesn’t even hesitate. “ Cool. I’ll come to you, just sit.” Dean gets his hands around Alex’s tiny body and shifts him until he’s safe in his arms, then gets to his feet. Two steps, and he’s bending over Cas on the other end of the couch, holding out the baby. Cas takes Alex with careful, but confident, motions, cradling the baby in his arms as he settles back against the couch cushion. Dean gets a whiff of barely there aftershave and laundry detergent, and the stronger scents of garlic and onion from cooking dinner. It’s an oddly comforting combination.

Alex makes some snuffling noises and looks up with his wide blue eyes, staring intently at Cas. Cas stares back with equal intensity, softened by the tiniest of smiles. “ You are very curious, aren’t you, Alex? Taking everything in. Like these strange people in your Uncle Dean’s house, yes.” He touches the very tip of his nose to the top of Alex’s fuzzy head.

Jack watching avidly, Claire now leaning over Cas’ couch arm. It’s a picture of fucking perfectly happy domesticity.

Holy shit, Dean is going to melt right into a puddle on the floor. A dopey eyed puddle of love struck goo. That will definitely stain his rug. The buzzer goes off again and Dean shakes himself back to the damp laundry that will go sour if he leaves it too long. “ Right back.” It comes out a bit rough and Dean clears his throat before turning on heel toward the long hallway that leads to his stacked washer and dryer tucked away at the end.

Dean’s barely stepped into the hall when he feels a grab for his pajama leg. Looking down, he finds Jack jogging along beside him. “ Dat hep Din, tay?”

“ Thanks, buddy. But my dryer is up kinda high… Eh, we’ll make it work.” Dean smiles at the little boy and mentally runs through his toddler-laundry combinations. He can smell the warmth from the washer, the hallway lightly scented like Ocean Breeze.

Dean makes sure Jack keeps away from the accordion door when he opens it, protecting those little fingers from a severe pinch, exposing the stacked washer and dryer. “ Washer.” He taps the lower door. “ Dryer.” Dean slaps the glass of the upper door. He cancels the washer’s alarm before it can sound again and pulls open the porthole-esque door. “ So…” Dean quirks a thoughtful frown. “ How we gonna do this?”

Jack dives right in, pulling out a twisted bundle of undershirts, a pair of damp boxers falling onto the floor. “ Up, Din.” He raises his hands, laundry hanging down into his face.

“ Good plan, Jack,” Dean praises. It’ll take longer to load, sure, but it’ll be fun for Jack and boost his self confidence since he’s helping. Dean opens the dryer door wide and picks Jack up around the waist, lifting him to eye level with the opening. “ Throw it in.”

Jack does so with gusto and delight. Most items make it inside, but a few smaller things fall on the edge or miss entirely and fall to the floor. Jack _uh-oh’s_ each time. Dean tells him it’s okay and waits until the bulk of wet clothing is in before scooping up the fallen and tossing them on top of their kin. Then he leans down to search the washer interior for anything plastered to the sides.

“ Wha Din see?” Jack crowds against him.

“ Looking for stuff that’s stuck.” Dean explains simply. He reaches in and scrapes a black sock from the metal side and shows it to Jack. “ See? The spinning flattens them against the sides.”

Jack stares at the sock in Dean’s hand for a long moment, then sets his little face in a determined expression, and lunges into the washing machine.

“ Whoa, buddy!” Dean grabs the seat of Jack’s pajamas and keeps him from crawling all the way into the wash. Jack looks over his shoulder, irritated and confused by the halting of his mission. Dean doesn’t want to encourage any dangerous behaviors, and playing in any kind of large appliance is dangerous, especially for small children. But, Jack obviously really wants to help. So, Dean keeps a firm grip and a stern face. “ You can only do this with a grown-up, okay? Me or Daddy has to hold onto you.”

“ Din oh Daddy.” Jack repeats.

“ Not just Jack.”

“ Nah duhs Dat. Din oh Daddy wif Dat.”

“ Okay. You’re good to go.”

Jack dives back in without missing a beat, rolling the drum and peeling socks and washcloths from the sides. He cheers every time he is successful and twists around to hand his prize over to Dean. It doesn’t take long for the toddler to shout , “ Ah dun!,” and wiggle backwards.

Dean releases Jack and closes the washer door. He hands his wadded up bundle of retrieved clothes to Jack, lifts him up, and lets him finish loading the dryer. “ All done!” he says with Jack as the last item drops on top of the pile inside. “ Good job!” Dean eases Jack onto his shoulder, securing his hold before closing the dryer and choosing his settings. Jack is content to pat Dean’s back and babble-sing the latest Top 40 earworm. Dean finds himself humming, despite his best intentions, and bounces Jack a little for the audial torture. Jack just laughs and sings louder. Dean sighs and heads back to the living room, quietly singing along.

 

**XOXOXOX**

Castiel tilts Alex up more against his shoulder, the baby grasping lightly against his sweatshirt. Quiet scritch of tiny scratching fingernails. He glances at the clock on the DVD player near the TV and sees it’s past bedtime for his own little ones. But, they’re having a good time. Claire, singing quietly to Alex. Jack, being helpful down the hall.

It’s very peaceful. Warm and sweet. Addictive, really. In this moment, there is literally nothing else Castiel wants more than to have this feeling every day for the rest of his life.

“ Dean’d make a good dad.” Claire interrupts her own humming to make her observation.

“ What makes you say that?” Castiel speaks quietly. Mostly as not to disturb Alex, but also because he isn’t certain he can keep his voice steady at a higher volume. Whispering is just easier.

“ Well, “ Claire holds up her hand and begins counting points off her fingers. “ He’s a pee-dee-uh-trih-shun.” Claire sounds the long word out phonetically. “ He’s really good with Alex and Jack. And he’s pretty cool with me. He has a lot of video games to play, and is really funny, so… Yeah. I think he’d be a good dad.”

Castiel pauses, listening to a breathy mewl from Alex, before answering his daughter. “ I think so, too. Maybe one day he will be, but he’ll have lots of practice with Alex until then.”

Claire pokes her finger into Alex’s tight grasp. “ And me and Jack, right?”

“ Of course, you and Jack, too.” Castiel shouldn’t make that kind of promise, implied or otherwise. There are so many variables he has no control over. But… fuck it. For right now he’s happy and surrounded by people he cares about, who care about him. And variables work both ways, for better or worse. Maybe they will stay here after the trial. Maybe Jack and Claire will grow up here. With Dean. And maybe, maybe Castiel and Dean could--

“ So FYI, Jack is the perfect size to scrape the wet socks off the roof of the washer drum.” Dean comes back into the living room, Jack tossed over his shoulder like a bag of wiggly potatoes. “ Oh, is he asleep?” He lowers his voice when he spots Alex curled against Cas.

Castiel gives an apologetic downward quirk of his mouth. “ Not yet. Should he be?” He hopes he didn’t mess up Alex’s sleeping routine too much.

Dean waves a dismissive hand. “ Naw, man. He’s got about another hour.” He pauses next to Castiel, setting Jack onto the couch beside him, and holds out his open hands. Expression questioning. “ You good or do you wanna hand him off?”

“ I’m good, thank you.” Castiel smiles up at the younger man. “ And,” he knows he’s blushing at the admission. “ I’d like to hold him a bit longer. He’s very comfortable.” _Comforting_ , really.

“ I know what you mean.” Dean smiles just as softly back and reclaims his seat on the other end of the couch. Jack immediately climbs into his lap. “ Okay, buddy. Definitely the jealous type.” He puts Jack in a loose headlock and rocks him side to side. “ So what are y’all doing for Christmas this year?”

“ Uncle Gabe’s place.” Claire answers before anyone else.

“ I have that weekend off, and Christmas Eve is Monday, Christmas Day is Tuesday, so the library is closed both days. “ Castiel squints as he tries to remember the exact dates. “ Rowena is back in town, and Benjamina said it was fine for me to take the rest of the week off. If last year is anything to go by, the library is not very busy around the actual holidays. Most gather their items beforehand, to have for traveling. There are no programs scheduled for the entire second half of December, either adult or children’s. So I have a very long weekend. But we’ll be here until the morning of Christmas Eve and come back the day after Christmas to assemble all the oversized toy sets I’m certain Gabriel has so thoughtfully gifted us.” He sighs, but it’s mostly for show. Gabriel’s lavish affection for the children is one of the many things Castiel loves about his older brother.

Dean nods, letting Jack out of the headlock and helping him lean back against the couch arm. “ Bobby and Ellen will come down for the last week of December to visit. So this year it’ll be after Christmas, but they’ll be here the week of New Year’s so we’ll do Christmas then. We all go over to Sam and Jess’. Jo, Ellen’s daughter, and her boyfriend, Victor, should be there since they both work Christmas Eve shifts. Might be a bit less alcohol-soaked with Alex around, but we have a good time.”

“ But what are you doing Christmas Day?” Claire beats Castiel to the question he’s most curious about.

“ Oh, well, I decided to give the loving couple some First Christmas Family time with Alex, so I’m just gonna stay here, eat lots of junk food, and binge _A Christmas Story_ all day. And do some prep for when everyone else gets here.” Dean shrugs. He doesn’t seem upset by the situation, but Castiel wonders if that stoicism will hold up under an entire day of holiday cheer with no one to share it with. Until Dean continues with, “ I’ll probably skype Bobby and Ellen that day, text the others.”

“ You can text us whenever you’d like while we’re at Gabriel’s, Dean,” Castiel assures him. “ It’s a bit of a free-for-all with no set schedule. Other than no one’s allowed to get out of bed before seven am.”

Dean laughs. “ You two are lucky your Daddy’s so nice. Bobby told us if we so much as sneezed aloud before nine o’clock Christmas morning he’d feed our presents to the Bigfoot in his barn.”

 

“ But, won’t you be lonely?” Claire isn’t satisfied by Dean’s casual replies. Castiel can understand her limited point of view; holidays happen on the calendar date and one spends them with family. Or friends, as a last resort. One simply does not spend Christmas by oneself. It’s like Halloween with no candy. Or a birthday with no cake.

Dean grins and lightly pokes Jack’s belly. “ Nope. Cuz I’m gonna sneak into your house while you’re gone and play with all your toys.”

“ No you’re not!” Claire moves to lean against Dean’s knees.

“ Uh huh!” Dean sticks his tongue out.

“ Nuh uh!” Claire returns the gesture with added spittle.

Jack ends the heated debate by popping up, nearly banging Dean’s chin, squealing at the TV screen.” Bee ger! Loo da bee ger!”

Castiel glances to the television and indeed there is a music video with a young girl dressed as a bee wandering across the screen through a variety of social situations. The song is vaguely familiar to him, but Dean is apparently a fan.

“ She’s so badass.” Dean smiles goofily at the TV.

“ Why is she dressed like a bee?” Claire pushes off Dean’s legs and leans back against the middle cushion, still watching the video. “ Is it Halloween?”

“ No, she just likes to dress like that. And some people don’t like that she’s different.” Dean explains.

“ Why do they care what she dresses like?” Claire seems genuinely confused.

“ Good point. They shouldn’t.” Dean wiggles his knee to nudge against her side, jostling her in time with the song. “ She can dress however she wants, just like everyone else.”

“ But those people are all being jerks to her.” Claire frowns, watching the scene unfold. “ She’s sad now.”

“ Yeah, she is. But it doesn’t stop her from being herself. And,” Dean pauses, smiling brightly, as the Bee Girl finds her field of like-minded peers. “ Then she finds other people like her to play with.”

“ Always be yourself!” Claire concludes.

“ Darn right!” Dean heartily agrees.

Another video takes the Bee Girl’s place, this one Castiel actually recognizes because it’s one of Meg’s favorite bands. Not that she’d ever admit it. Or admit that she got Castiel hooked, as well.

“ I love this song!” Claire shouts at the television, very familiar with the tune. She pushes off the couch and begins jumping up and down, mostly in rhythm, shaking her wild hair all over, singing very off key.

“ Me, too!” Dean rolls Jack onto the middle cushion and shoves himself from the couch to join Claire, eventually taking her hands to jump together in a circle.

Then Jack decides he needs a dance partner as well. “ Danssss, Daddy! Dansss wih Dat! Pease!”

“ Dance, Daddy!” Claire echoes.

“ Yeah, Daddy! Dance!” Dean chimes in with a wicked smile.

Realizing he’s vastly outnumbered, Castiel rolls his eyes, and stands. It’s a few seconds getting Alex secured in his bouncy seat, turned to watch the shenanigans. His big dark eyes are wide open, confused by the manic motions all around. Castiel gently boops his nose, then turns to Jack, taking his hands and leading him to the middle of the floor. He makes sure he gives Claire and Dean plenty of room, then begins carefully swinging their joined arms, leaning far to each side to enhance Jack’s giggle.

This is fun. So much fun. Not that he doesn’t play with the children as often as he’s able, but there’s something very lighthearted about this all. It’s warm and carefree and the weight he carries around on his shoulders each and every day lightens considerably.

Then Claire ditches Dean and cuts in on her father and Jack. She grabs Jack’s hands, the boy going along willingly, and they begin their own little mosh pit for two.

“ I see how it is,” Dean complains, smile stretched wide across his flushed face. “ Left for a younger man. Ain’t that a shame?”

Castiel laughs, feeling flushed himself. He watches the children whirl around for a few moments. The song winds down and Claire and Jack fall dramatically onto the floor, chests heaving, laughing between huge breaths. Their unbridled joy is contagious.

 

He blames that for the sudden urge to dance with Dean. Blames it for following through on the urge. The next video starts, much slower than the previous song. Like Fate is playing her part in this stupid little situation of theirs. Castiel doesn’t recognize this song at all, but Dean obviously does, judging by the soft expression on his face. There are memories there, Castiel is certain. Pleasant and bittersweet and not to be prodded at the moment.

Instead, Castiel holds out his hand, expression easy and pressure free. This doesn’t have to be complicated. It can be two friends, dancing in the living room, giving the children some entertainment and a perfect example of how to subvert the strict expectations of toxic masculinity.

Dean stares at the open palm, blinks up at Castiel, then ducks his head the slightest bit. The younger man executes an exaggerated eye roll with his whole body, then takes the offered hand with a huff. Castiel can still remember how this hand felt cupping his stubbled jaw, fingers in his hairline above his ear. Now those strong fingers curve around his palm as Dean steps into his space. He puts Castiel’s other hand at his waist, and puts his own hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Several inches of space separate their bodies. Proper waltzing posture, except they don’t actually waltz. Instead, they sway back and forth in time to the melody and occasionally Castiel steers them in a half turn. Very much like those awkward middle school dances.

Although, as adults, they do manage to maintain eye contact and little smiles.

Castiel chuckles quietly. “ More than twenty years since my last school dance and I’m _still_ the shorter of the pair.”

“ Bet you were a real ladies’ man, huh? “ Dean gives a lopsided grin, teasing. “ Knee deep in Bonne Bell lip gloss and tie-dye scrunchies back in the day.”

“ Hardly.” Castiel moves them back a step, then forward. He can feel the warmth of Dean’s skin through his t-shirt. “ I went to most of the school activities because Gabriel and Balthazar bribed me with book money if I went along and played wingman.” A slight draft brings the scent of clean skin and soap to Castiel’s nose. He breathes it in as subtley as possible. “ I used to think they just did it to torture me, the youngest. I was horribly awkward. But as I got older, I believe they were genuinely worried about me being alone in the house all the time.” He hadn’t really meant to divulge that last part. He’s spoken to Dean before about his childhood, they’ve exchanged funny stories and less pleasant ones about growing up in a household with largely absent parental figures. It’s been interesting, comparing Dean’s view as the oldest and Castiel’s experience as the youngest. But not what Castiel had really wanted to get into at the moment. This particular moment.

And Dean. Beautiful, kind, empathetic Dean lets it lie with a simple, “ I can relate to that,” and a gentle smile. Then he stumbles a bit when Castiel attempts another half turn and Dean catches his toe on the edge of the rug. The blush springs to his face. “ Crap. Sorry.”

“ You can lead, if you’re more comfortable with it.” Castiel offers, not wanting Dean to injure himself just because Castiel is accustomed to leading on the dance floor.

“ Nah. I’m good either way.” Dean waggles his eyebrows suggestively, like a cartoon wolf.

Castiel squashes down the immediate rush of blood to certain extremities as he interprets the double entendre. Lord God in Heaven, this man! Well, that deserves an equally suggestive response. He arranges his face into its usual neutral expression, tightens his hold on his partner, and dips Dean with a savage confidence.

Dean squawks. Like a rooster in a dunking booth. Both hands tighten on Castiel, holding on with a death grip that Castiel can feel through his thick sweatshirt and causes his fingers to ache. The slender waist is tense against his arm.

Claire and Jack both squeal in response. Even Alex sputters and grunts at the commotion.

Castiel’s back and arms are straining. Dean is not a small man and it’s been a while since Castiel has done this with anyone of any size. But he holds Dean there, at his mercy. Watching those long lashes flutter, the color rise under the freckles, the quick little pants that escape those plush lips that Castiel just wants to taste again so badly and he leans in just an inch and lifts up Dean another inch in his arms and--

“ Me, Daddy! Do me!” Regaining their breath, Claire and Jack now demand their own fancy dance moves.

Castiel blinks. What in God’s name is he doing?

But then Dean, holding his unblinking gaze, licks those sinfully beautiful lips and grumbles, “ Show off.”

The moment of insanity is gone and everything comes rushing back. Castiel grins, leans forward and presses a loud smacking kiss against Dean’s forehead. “ Mwuah!” Claire and Jack are rolling. Castiel carefully pulls Dean back onto his feet as he leans back, “ Yes. Yes I am.” Oddly, his face isn’t burning off with embarrassment. He feels more irritated at having to stop than anything else. He’s so absorbed in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Dean is still holding onto him until suddenly he lets go and the cool air chills the warm spots where the man was held against him.

And he hears Alex fussing in his seat.

“ Hold on. I gotcha, big man.” Dean steps away quickly, attention now aimed solidly on the squirming infant.

But Castiel doesn’t miss the little cough, or the grin on the younger man’s face as he turns toward his charge. And now Jack is tugging on his pants leg and Claire is waiting semi-patiently nearby for her turn and Dean is taking Alex off for a diaper change and Castiel lets the lingering heat and tension bleed from his muscles as he drops to his knees to be on level with his toddler.

As he’s dipping Jack low to the ground, the thin blonde curl on his crown brushing the floor, Castiel decides this continuing desire for his friend cannot be ignored any longer.

Which means he needs to think it over.

Which means talking to someone.

Which means deciding who he’d rather hear _” I told you so,_ from.

Meg? Or Gabriel?

 

_**tbc…** _


	16. Friendly Advice, First Kisses, and Venison Chili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cain have a nice little chat over dinner.

**Chapter 16: Friendly Advice, First Kisses, and Venison Chili**

**Mid December 2018  
Sunday Night**

_< < sorry sam. exhausted, gonna stay in tonight. _

_> > Ok. I’ll let Jess know. Get some sleep!_

Dean feels bad lying to his brother. It’s not exactly a lie. He _is_ tired, but in a more introvert-needs-his-quiet kinda way than physical fatigue. In fact that’s exactly it, though he’s never really considered himself an introvert, but he definitely just doesn’t have the energy required for socializing right now. Even with his family.

But he doesn’t exactly want to be alone either. Because being alone means sitting in his underwear on the couch, watching reruns of _Scooby Doo_ in the dark, eating way too many bags of Doritos. Alone with his thoughts that aren’t exactly all rainbows and puppies at the moment.

Cas and the kids went out to dinner with Meg. That’s where Dean would have tried first. But they’re not home, so he’ll have to look elsewhere for quiet company.

So Dean texts Cain to ask if he can bring over some apple pie in exchange for some venison chili and Cain quickly replies with an affirmative.

Less than ten minutes pass before Dean is knocking on the cabin door then sticks his hands back into his pockets to protect them from the cold wind. The handles of the tote bag hang off his wrist. He’s barely waiting three seconds before the door swings open and Cain is stepping back to allow Dean entry. Inside smells of woodsmoke, spicy stew, and something sweet simmering on the stovetop. Homey comfort. Dean sets the tote on a nearby chair as he strips off his gloves and shoves them into his pocket before unzipping his coat and hanging it on one of the pegs near the door.

Cain is back at the stove, stirring whatever heavenly scented concoction is cooking in the large stewpot. He nods toward the small kitchen table where a double paper bag is sitting. “ Go through it and make sure everything you wanted is in it. Dinner will be served up very soon.”

“ Awesome.” Dean claps his hands and rubs them together as though he’s about to jump into the world’s best apple pie. Which is what’s in the tote bag, lucky him. Anytime he orders Cain’s _Surprise Me_ Gift Basket, he gets the most amazing things. Sometimes Cain even gives him off menu items, like the juniper berry and brown sugar syrup last month. So, Dean is more than happy to dig through the heavy duty paper bag, pulling out each thing to inspect, which mostly means opening everything and smelling it. But first, he needs to be a good guest and gathers two bottles of beer from the fridge, popping the caps and handing off one to Cain before taking a swig from his own.

Then Dean gets to it. This newest haul is to augment the Christmas stockings for his coworkers. But he’ll keep a few things for himself, too. He can’t help it. “ So awesome,” he says again as he smears some honey balm across his lower lip and smacks it against his upper. The wind has been murder lately, chapping all his exposed skin. Some hand lotion and candles, all in pine and clove scents. ‘Tis the Season, and all. And, as always, a First Kiss candle, shooting star etched into the glass.

Dean breathes in the cinnamon and bourbon scents, subtle honey beneath. He loves this scent the most and Cain always slips one in, regardless of what else Dean orders. He wonders, as he often has in the past few months, what the story is behind this particular combination of fragrances. Not everything has a story, of course. But Dean has noticed that most things are labeled simply, describing the main scent; Peppermint, Pine and Cinnamon, Coffee. And a few things have more fanciful titles, like Collette’s Favorite and, of course, First Kiss.

The obvious answer is that it refers to Collette. After all, there are quite a few memorials to Cain’s deceased wife in his work. But if that’s the case, Dean finds it odd that Cain would choose this particular candle to gift him every time. Like shoving the ghost of his dead wife in Dean’s face. Very much not like Cain.

Maybe it reminds Cain of his own first kiss, or maybe just pleasant first kisses in general. Dean frowns in thought, holding the candle directly under his nose to continually breathe it in. Maybe...

“ You don’t remember, do you?’ Cain appears with two steaming bowls of chili and a small plate of cornbread muffins, carefully setting his items on the table before taking his seat opposite Dean. He’s smiling gently, amused.

“ Remember what?” Dean reaches out for a muffin with his free hand, carefully placing the candle to the side of his bowl. The first bite causes a moan deep in his throat. Just the right amount of sweetness in the butter melted on top. It distracts him from the candle for a few seconds.

Cain sips his own beer, watching Dean over the edge of the bottle. “ Our first kiss.”

There’s a flash of something warm and spicy, but Dean shakes it off, embarrassed, and answers confidently. “ Duh. Harvelle’s Roadhouse, New Year’s Eve, 2010, five seconds til midnight. You asked if you could kiss me and I nearly bit my tongue trying to answer before Ellen finished the countdown.” He takes another huge bite of cornbread and adds a spoonful of venison chili, grinning brightly in between. It’s an awesome memory that he’s held onto very tightly for a very long time.

“ No.” Cain shakes his head over his spoon before putting it down, curling both hands around the warm bowl. He’s still smiling, strong nostalgia softening his voice further when he continues. “ Harvelle’s Roadhouse parking lot, on Baby’s hood, Black Friday, an hour after closing.” Cain pauses, letting his correction sink in. “ And you kissed me. Without asking first, as I recall.”

Dean is staring, the cornbread momentarily forgotten. His attention flicks from Cain’s open expression to the candle near his hand and for some reason the smaller font on the label catches his attention like a ball bat against his temple. _Cinnamon and Bourbon._ It can’t be. No way. Dean looks back up at the older man, hand slowly lowering the mostly eaten cornbread into his bowl. He puts both hands around the candle, a mirror of Cain’s hands around his bowl. “ I thought that was just a dream.”

“ Well, you were rather sloshed at the time.” Cain agrees.

“ You never said anything.” Dean is flabbergasted. Because he does remember that kiss, but it’s warped by copious amounts of fireball whiskey and wishful thinking brought on by a rough semester of nursing school and a lonely Thanksgiving holiday after. And in the light of a horrible hangover the following morning, Dean had convinced himself that he’d dreamed it up out of desperation.

“ Honestly, you seemed so embarrassed about what you did remember of that night. I didn’t want to make it worse.” Cain raises a brow and quirks his lips.

“ I do remember spilling an entire pitcher of beer on Ellen’s pool table. Completely by accident. I wasn’t even drunk yet.” Dean’s not even thinking about that, he’s still pulling every snippet of that kiss, trying to form a more coherent picture. It’s so irritating. He has impressions more than anything. Cold night air on his heated cheeks. Gravel sliding under his feet. Cain’s breath warm against his mouth. “ Dammit,” he whispers under his breath, frustrated.

“ I remember Ellen making you clean it up.” Cain laughs quietly. He shifts in his chair, as though settling in, and gazes out the window at the bare branches blowing in the wind, shadows stark in the security lights. “ You were so determined, pulling that bottle of cheap trash from the trunk and downing half of it in three gulps. I couldn’t stop you. And we sat on the hood in the parking lot, long after closing, just staring up at the stars. It was very clear that night. “ He sighs softly, smile on his lips. “ I closed my eyes, just content in the moment.” The smile grows a bit more mischievous as he turns his eyes toward Dean. “ And suddenly you were leaning over me, kissing me to the very best of your inebriated ability.”

Dean’s memory clears the tiniest bit. “ I grabbed your coat collar.” Thick wool, warm and dry, smelling of Cain’s soap.

Cain nods, and replies in his dry tone, “ I believe it was the only thing keeping you from falling off the car.”

Dean squeezes the candle between his hands, swallowing a sudden surge of uncertainty. “ Did you kiss me back?” He honestly doesn’t remember Cain kissing him back. Okay, if he’s truly honest he doesn’t remember Cain _not_ kissing him back either, so Dean feels it’s a fair question.

Cain hesitates for the barest second, averting his eyes, before he contradicts Dean’s suspicions. “ I did, yes.” A hint of what Dean can only identify as shame washes over Cain’s features. “ I shouldn’t have, but…” That clear blue gaze comes back to meet Dean’s eyes. “ But in that moment, you were warm and soft and you wanted me. And I’d wanted you for quite a while. Definitely not my proudest moment.”

Dean can feel his cheeks heating up, all the way to his ears. He can’t really remember any of that, but he does sorta remember, “ You pushed me away.”

“ As soon as I gathered my wits together, yes. I forced some physical distance between us. Which, unfortunately, hurt your feelings, and rightly so.”

“ Dude, please don’t tell me I cried.”

“ Just for a few minutes. Then you, well...I wouldn’t exactly say _passed out_ , but you very promptly fell asleep.”

“ Son. Of. A. Bitch.” Dean hangs his head, covering his flushed face with both hands. He’s now very glad that that entire night is barely more than a hazy memory and wishes he hadn’t discovered these new embarrassing facets. There’s a large hand squeezing his wrist and Dean lifts his head, letting his hands fall back to the table in defeat. He can still feel the heat in his face. “ No wonder you dumped my whiney ass.”

“ Dean, your incredible capacity for emotion is one of the reasons I began a relationship with you in the first place. There’s no shame in that.” Cain gives Dean a very serious look, meaning to be taken at his word. His hand remains snug around Dean’s wrist. ” And you know that’s not why I had to end things between us.”

“ I know,” Dean gets out on a heavy sigh. He does know. And once he got his head outta his ass after those few months of throwing himself the world’s hugest pity party, he’d understood, too. Sitting here across from Cain’s intense gaze, reminiscing over the start of their relationship, Dean realizes they haven’t actually talked about the specifics of their break up, the circumstances leading up to that heartbreaking morning when Cain had packed his bags and told Dean that he was not coming back. God, it still hurts, remembering. And Dean can see in Cain’s eyes, right now, that those memories hurt the older man just as much. So, Dean pulls his arm free, twisting until their hands are folded together. “ It took me a while, but I finally figured it out.”

Cain squeezes once, then releases Dean’s hand to curve it around his bowl once more. “ That takes time, for everyone,” he assures the younger man. “ And it takes time to figure out when one should try again.” He levels Dean with pointed gaze.

Dean glances up, surprised. “ Are you… are you thinking about dating someone?”

“ Lord, give me patience.” Cain rolls his eyes so hard, Dean can see the whites clear as day. Dropping his spoon into his bowl with a loud clank, Cain settles both elbows on the table and stares Dean down. “ I’m talking about you, Dean. You and Castiel.”

Dean squirms unformatably in his chair. “ I don’t know, man. He’s got the kids and all this legal stuff…”

“ Are those excuses? You’re not interested in single parents or someone who just happens to have things going on in their lives they have no control over?” ”

“ No! That’s not what I mean and you know it!”

“ Then what do you mean?”

But Dean is thinking about that moment while they were dancing, when Castiel dipped him and the heat in his eyes had sent shivers all over Dean’s body. But he doesn’t mention that because it was just a fluke. They were just playing. Instead he confesses to the first incident that set the precedent for their relationship so far. “ I mean, we’ve already kinda had a moment, a few months back. And Cas said he couldn’t. Not with, you know, all the stuff going on in his life.”

“ Not that he didn’t want to?”

“ No. In fact he was pretty adamant that he wanted it, he just… couldn’t.” Dean shrugs and pokes at the food in his bowl. “ And I understand. I’m not a complete dick. He’s got more important things to deal with instead of wasting time with me.”

“ Dean, nothing about you is a waste of time.”

“ That’s not the point.”

“ No, the point is that you are a wonderful person and Castiel is a wonderful person and I believe you would both benefit from a relationship. With each other, in case I’m not making myself clear.”

“ I don’t want to come off as that asshole who can’t take a no.”

“ I’m not suggesting that. I’m suggesting that you both seem to want this relationship, but you’re both too stubborn and self-sacrificing to take the blatant opportunity for happiness. And I am honestly tired of watching you two dance around each other.”

Dean squirms in his seat again, even more uncomfortable under Cain’s scrutiny. And the unintended reminder of the latest almost-kiss with Cas. “ So what do you suggest? A big grand gesture? Stand outside his window at the crack of dawn, blaring Peter Gabriel on my boombox?”

“ You think you’re cute, but I remember that movie.”

“I’m freakin’ adorable.”

“ Yes, you are. And I’m certain Castiel believes so, as well.” Cain leans on his forearms, resting on the table, framing his bowl. His gaze never wavers from Dean’s. Gentle, but firm. “ And I’m suggesting that you give the situation some more thought. Be brave and take advantage of the many opportunities you have together to revisit the idea of pursuing something deeper than friendship.”

“ Right. So, jump him..” Dean teases, winking at the older man across the table.

Cain smirks. “ Now you’re just being an ass. Eat your dinner.”

Laughter, smiles, hot chili. It’s light and easy again. But Dean is mulling over everything Cain said to him, taking the what ifs and rolling them around in his brain. Because Cain is right, of course. Dean has seen all the little looks, soaked up the little touches, memorized every slip of Cas’ determined exterior. Like that kiss that had nearly been a direct hit on Dean’s mouth before Cas had detoured to the safety of his forehead. And Dean notices these things because they’re the same exact slip-ups that he makes himself on a near daily basis. Cain is right, and they’re both idjits, as Bobby would say.

That doesn’t mean it’ll work.

But it doesn’t mean they shouldn’t try.

 

**XOXOXOX**

 

“ When are Aunt Meg and Miss Hannah going to get a dog? “

“ Um, I didn’t know they wanted a dog.”

“ But they have a whole bunch of collars and leashes in this drawer in the guest bedroom--”

Castiel silently curses his friend’s forgetfulness. Though how one can forget that they keep their guest bedroom stocked as a sex dungeon, he can’t possibly fathom.

Claire’s story continues. “ --and then I saw some chains, like really shiny and--”

“ Claire, it is incredibly rude to rummage through people’s belongings. You know this.” But, first things first. Castiel has to figure out who’s to blame for the blunder.

“ But Aunt Meg told me to get a pair of socks for Jack because he stepped in that puddle of snot--”

“ Pistachio pudding.” So he’ll be lecturing Meg instead of Claire.

“ And there were two bottom drawers so I just checked them both and then Aunt Meg came running in and when I asked about the collars she said they were thinking about getting a puppy and I was just wondering if maybe you were going to give them a puppy for Christmas.”

“ Uuuuhhh, no. I’m not.” Mentally, Castiel plans an irate phone call to his best friend

“ Are you getting _us_ a puppy for Christmas?”

“ Also, no. I’m sorry, but a puppy is more then we can handle at the moment.”

“ Could Dean get a puppy?”

“ Do not ask Dean for a puppy, Claire. Or you, Jack.”

“ Pup-pup?”

Castiel sighs. He should have known better. If Jack decides to dig his heels in, as he’s been known to do, he will join forces with Claire and gang up on Castiel until they get the aforementioned puppy from some adult in their social circle. Think fast, think fast! “ Who wants to watch _The Muppets Christmas Carol_ tonight?”

There’s a chorus of positive replies from the back seat and Castiel heaves a sigh of relief. Puppy crisis averted.

Claire and Jack talk about their favorite parts of the movie as Castiel listens in and occasionally adds his own unpopular opinion on the Swedish Chef being the most underrated muppet of all time.

They’re almost home, the slight dip in the treeline glowing with security lights visible down the road. But there’s something else there, as well. Castiel slows down, giving the small car plenty of time to pull out of the driveway and get back onto the road. There’s nothing suspicious about the newish black four door. They’re a dime a dozen on the roads. Nothing unusual about it coming out of Cain’s driveway. Lots of people, lost on the remote road, use the head of the drive to turn around and head back to the interstate.

But something has Castiel’s hackles up.

When the car passes by in the opposite lane, he glances out his window, trying to see the driver. But the windows are too darkly tinted, the headlights too bright. Castiel barely makes out a person shaped blob and that’s about it before he directs his eyes forward again. There’s just something off… Instead of turning into the drive, Castiel slows down enough to get a look at the gates as he drives by.

There is a large plastic bag hanging from one of the steel spikes on top of the gate.

It could be nothing. A confused delivery driver. Trash blown up by the recent storm. It might not even involve the car that just turned around in the drive.

Castiel drives straight ahead.

“ Dad, you missed our house,” Claire points out very helpfully and not judgmental in any way.

“ I did,” Castiel agrees with a put upon sigh. “ I was thinking about where I’m going to hide all your Christmas presents and got distracted.”

“ Distracted driving is bad.”

“ Very. I think we should go get some hot chocolate from Starbucks before our movie, to wake me up. What do you think?”

“ Yes, please!” Claire whoops. “ Jack? You want marshmallows?”

“ Mahmamah! Pease, Daddy!” Jack joins in the refrain.

Castiel smiles and pulls into a Dollar General lot a few minutes away. He parks the car and pulls out his phone. “ I’m going to ask Mr. Cain if he’d like a treat. “

“ Dean, too!” Claire reminds him.

“ Dean is out tonight, remember? Visiting Dr. Jess and Mr. Sam and Alex.” The other man deserves to go out, to relax with his family and friends, and Castiel doesn’t want to worry him, to make Dean come rushing home to help. Expect he really does, and that’s a problem he’ll deal with later. Instead, Castiel turns up the radio a smidge- an annoyingly infectious pop song for the children’s enjoyment- and sends a text to Cain.

_< < Package left on gate. Just a bad feeling. Police?_

_> > I’ll check it out. Where are you?_

_< < Taking children to Mt Juliet Starbucks._

_> > Good. Stay there. I’ll text you. _

_< < Be careful_

A shaky breath escapes Castiel’s lungs. It’s probably nothing and he feels bad for dragging Cain from his peaceful evening to investigate a goddamn plastic bag, but… Castiel has learned to trust his instincts and any risk is too much where the children are concerned. So he shoves his guilt aside and hums along with the stupid song and takes the car back out onto the two-lane highway, Starbucks bound.

_**tbc…** _


	17. The Package

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's in the box?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot! Things have been a bit crazy, I literally reminded myself yesterday and haven't given it a second thought til literally two minutes ago! So I think I'm gonna change my postings to every other Sunday from now. We'll see if I remember that ;) Thank you!!!

**Chapter 17: The Package**

**Mid December 2018  
Sunday**

 

“ Hmm.” 

Dean blinks at Cain over the bowl of popcorn, his hand deep in the middle of the fluffy kernels. “ Huh?” 

Cain is typing on his phone as he stands from the couch and heads to his desk across the room where his laptop is already open. “ Castiel says there’s a package at the gate.” 

Fear pinches Dean’s stomach, the once awesome food now settling heavy in his gut. “ Not one anyone’s expecting?” He drops his handful of popcorn into the bowl and carefully sets it on the middle couch cushion. 

“ Correct,” Cain confirms. “ He’s taking the children to Mt Juliet for treats. I told him I’d text when it was clear.” 

That eases up the tension holding Dean’s body in its rigid position hunched in his seat on the couch. Cas and the kids are safe, for the moment. He finds the TV remote and pauses the episode of _American Pickers_ they’d been heckling and crosses to stand behind Cain’s chair, looking over the his shoulder. The security camera grid is up, quickly replaced by a full screen of the camera at the gate. The security lights make the playback footage daylight bright. A small dark colored car pulls in, a person gets out of the driver side with a large white plastic bag- like a garbage bag- and hangs it on the spiked top of the gate. Dean squints at the screen, trying to make out more of the driver’s face, but a ballcap pulled low prevents him seeing anything more than a bit of chin and ear. 

“ A woman. Or a very young or slight man. “ Cain mutters his observation.

Dean watches the figure walk quickly back to the car. “ I’d say a woman just by the way they move,” he agrees with Cain’s assessment. Even from the higher angle, he can tell the person is much smaller than the average male, both height and weight wise. They either have very short hair, or have it tucked under the ballcap. And he can just make out heeled boots on their feet. “ And those boots. I don’t know too many men who’d be able to walk confidently in heels that high.” He checks the time stamp and sees it’s been less than ten minutes since the package was left. 

Cain pauses the replay and stands, careful not to bump into Dean. His tone is light, but his expression serious, when he says, “ Let’s check it out, shall we?” 

Dean nods and heads to the door for his coat and boots. He’s got them laced up by the time Cain rejoins him, handing over a large heavy duty Maglite. Flashlight and blunt object all-in-one. Dean looks up from the Maglite and takes in the hunting rifle nestled in the crook of Cain’s elbow, muzzle pointing safely at the floor, as the older man slips into his own boots. Cain raises a questioning brow, but Dean pulls his keys from his coat pocket, and puts the keys back after slipping off a set of artfully formed brass knuckles from the ring. He slips the metal over his right hand and holds the Maglite in his left. Cain nods in approval and they exit the house. 

They take Cain’s truck down to the gate, a short drive in the dark. The heat doesn’t even kick in fully by the time they pull up to the metal fencing, parking a bit away from the pillar that contains the interior control box. They remain in the truck, staring out the windshield at the shape hanging on the other side of the gate. 

Dean glances at Cain, then back to the bag. “ Open the gate or pull it over?” 

Cain looks around the area, keen blue eyes scanning the road and tree line on either side of the cement pillars. All brightly lit by spotlights on the trees. “ I don’t think anyone’s waiting for access. “

“ So, not a distraction. Which actually makes it worse.” 

“ That is my thinking, yes.” 

“ What do you think we’re looking at?” 

“ I’d say it’s nothing physically harmful, only because Nicholas- and I’m certain it’s his doing- wouldn’t want to chance injuring Jack.”

“ So it shouldn’t explode or be covered in anthrax. Yay.” Dean pulls on the handle and lets the truck door swing open, booted feet crunching on the dry leaves blown onto the gravel. 

Cain exits the driver’s side and approaches the control box. He unlocks the metal door and punches in the code. The gears rumble, there’s a tiny squeak of metal, then the gate slowly slides to the left. 

Dean keeps his attention spread over the area, still wary of suspects possibly hiding nearby, as he ducks through the opening and grabs the handles of the bag, lifting it as carefully as he can over the spikes. It’s not heavy at all, which surprises him, and a familiar whiff of something hits his nose in the cold air. “ Smells like… a food court?” He frowns at Cain as he comes back around the gate, listening to it sliding back into place with a loud clang. “ Orange chicken and french fries.” 

Cain mirrors his frown and eyes the bag. Dean turns to make sure his shadow isn’t blocking their view and carefully reaches into the oversized garbage bag. His fingers touch cardboard, a handle. Grabbing the handle securely, Dean lets the bag fall to the ground, exposing a decorated cardboard box folded into the shape of a house.

“ Fuckin’ Build-a-Bear?” Dean glances up to Cain, incredulous at the discovery. “ We’re terrorizing people with stuffed animals, now? Christ.” 

Cain toes around the inside of the bag on the ground, searching. Apparently finding nothing of note, he turns his keen gaze to the box. “ I don’t see any tags or names on it.” Cain takes the box from Dean, turning it slowly in his hands to examine each side. Finding only the pre-printed company logo, he unfolds the cardboard flaps holding the top together and opens the box. Cain reaches in and pulls out a bright red dragon-ish plush toy. 

Dean instantly hates it. Its mouth is open in a toothy roar, its cartoony brows drawn inward in an angry expression. Not something he thinks Jack would particularly like, despite his many dinosaur and dragon toys, which speaks to how much Nicholas Adler doesn’t know his child. “ Anything else inside the box? A card or note, or something?”

Cain hands the stuffed animal over to Dean who takes it by the middle, squeezing, and the cold air is suddenly filled with a loud roar. Dean nearly drops the thing and Cain is startled enough to grip the box so hard the handle rips. 

Dean stares at the toy, attempting to get his heartbeat back under control. Holding it at arm’s length, he tries to figure out why the roar was so startling. Lots of animal toys make animal noises. The suddenness was partially to blame, of course, but not to the extent it scared them both shitless. Dean squeezes it again. The roar is just as loud, though slightly different in pitch and Dean can hear the more human aspect of it. It’s not a manufactured dragon’s roar. It’s a human voice mimicking a ferocious roar. That brings up a rather sickening thought in Dean’s mind and he hopes to every god that ever was that he’s wrong as he squeezes the plushy belly again.

“ Daddy’s coming, Jack! Rawr!” 

Nicholas Adler’s voice is playful and laughing, incongruous with the terror crawling down Dean’s spine. He honestly wants to vomit. No, he wants to throw this thing on a pyre in front of Nicholas Adler’s fancy apartment building and watch it burn to ash. His thoughts must be painfully obvious on his face because Cain is taking the toy and dropping it back into its box. “ Evidence. If Castiel decides to notify the police.”

Dean nods silently, head still so full of fear and anger. He bends down to grab the bag it came in, holding it open for Cain to place the box inside. 

Cain takes the entire thing and pats Dean’s back with his unoccupied hand, leaving it in place for long comforting moments. “ I’ll keep it at my cabin. No reason for the children to ever know of its existence.” 

“ The man is a psycho, Cain. Why can’t the courts see that?” Dean spits out, spinning around and stomping back to the truck. He’s frustrated and so fucking scared of what could happen to the kids and Cas if Nicholas Fucking Alder isn’t put permanently behind bars. Or better yet, executed. 

He slams the truck door and watches his breath steam out in the cold dry air. Cain’s reflection moves in the rearview mirror, dropping the bag into the storage box in the bed of the truck, then climbing behind the wheel, door shutting not quite as angrily as Dean’s. He pulls out his phone and types a few moments. “ I’m letting Castiel know it’s safe to come home. Would you mind watching the children for a bit, while he comes to the cabin?” Cain doesn’t look up, but noticeably pauses in his message. 

“ Yeah, I can get them ready for bed. No problem.” Dean responds absently, still seething over the ineptitude of the justice system and the toll it’s taking on his close friends. His family, now.

“ You’ll be alright?” Cain’s thumbs are hovering over the keypad, needing assurance before sending his message. 

“ Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Dean swallows down the anger, the helplessness, knowing it’s not going to do anyone any good. The kids need him to keep it together and be his usual goofy self and Cas needs him to keep the kids calm. He can do this. He will do this. For them. “ Let’s go.”

 

**XOXOXOX**

Castiel pulls into his drive, parking under the carport. Dean is standing at the door, as Cain’s text had promised. Reading that text, knowing Dean would be there, had eased Castiel’s anxiety just enough to finish his own cup of hot chocolate, gone luke warm and previously ignored, as he waited for the signal to return home. 

Actually seeing Dean here, Castiel can breathe even easier. The tightness in his gut is still twisted in a heavy knot, but that’s not going away any time tonight, unfortunately. At least, not unmedicated. 

Claire and Jack are both out of their safety belts/seats and are waiting impatiently for Castiel to open their car door as they’ve been taught. Castiel exits the car and Dean steps into the drive, stopping at his side. Dean’s figure is backlit by the bright security light and Castiel can just make out the solemn expression on his handsome face. The worry lines around his eyes and mouth.

“ I’ll get the kids ready for bed, but I’ll keep ‘em up until you get back if you want.” 

“ Actually, I told them they could watch a movie.” Castiel laughs nervously, as he opens the Continental’s back door. He raises his voice a bit to include the children. “ So, if they’re willing to get ready for bed first, then we can skip bathtime tonight and watch _The Muppet Christmas Carol_ in their new Christmas pajamas from Aunt Meg. ” He hands over the tote bag of recently received presents to Claire as she gets out. 

Both children respond with excited whoops and race toward the door. Jack turns at the last second to toddle back to Dean and shove a paper bag against the man’s leg, letting go the second Dean’s fingers touch the handle, and running back to Claire’s side. 

Castiel smiles, despite his unease. “ They insisted we bring something back for you and Cain, though I doubt Cain would feel as though he was missing out if you wanted to eat both.” At the end of the day, there had been few choices in the pastry case, but Claire had decided Cain would like an almond croissant and Jack had picked out a chocolate brownie for Dean. 

“ Cas…” Dean looks almost uncertain, wide eyed, as he stares into the open bag. His breath is steaming in the frigid air between them. Lips parted slightly as though words would like to come out, but nothing breaks the quiet of the moment.

Except for Claire and Jack clamoring to get inside the house. 

“ Dad, it’s freakin’ freezing!”

“ Brrrrrr, Daddy!” 

“ Remember what we talked about on the way home.” He reluctantly turns from Dean and takes the few steps to the back door, edging around the children to get his keys into the appropriate locks. “ Behave for Dean and we’ll visit the big hotel again, see all the Christmas lights.”

“ Behave or I’ll make you watch Barney.” Dean jokes behind him. 

“ Nuh uh.” Claire begins. 

“ Uh huh.” Dean counters. 

Castiel blocks it out, finishes unlocking the door and quickly steps inside to disarm the security system. Claire and Jack follow, then Dean. He steps around Castiel to set the pastry bag on the kitchen counter. The children scamper past, haphazardly shedding their coats and shoes in the corner before racing each other to their bedroom. Castiel steers his attention back to the man opposite. “ Turn the system back on when I leave. Claire knows the code, but it’s also written on the back of the microwave and--”

“ It’ll be okay.” Dean seems to have gathered himself back together from his lapse outside, raising his hand to grip Castiel’s shoulder. Firm and reassuring, even through Castiel’s many layers. Castiel can see Dean’s face clearly now in the well lit kitchen, his green eyes bright and sincere. The worry lines still present, however. “ I’ve got ‘em.” 

“ I know you do. Thank you, Dean.” Castiel squeezes Dean’s raised forearm, then half-shouts toward the rest of the house. “ I’ll be back in a little bit.” 

Claire’s voice echoes back from the bathroom. “ Later, alligator!”

“ Lahtah allatahtah!” Jack repeats. 

Castiel watches the grin spring to Dean’s face and a gentle warmth spreads through him. It won’t last, but Castiel is determined to enjoy it for as long as possible. “ I’ll text when I’m on my way back.”

Dean nods and Castiel forces his feet to move back toward his door and out into the cold once again. He hears the click of the door, click of the lock, two soft thuds of the deadbolts sliding into place. He can’t hear the keypad, but he trusts Dean to reset the system. He takes a deep breath and gets back into the Continental. 

It’s a short drive to the old fishing cabin near the lake shore and Cain is also standing outside, waiting for Castiel. Breath clouding around his head like a dragon. Castiel approaches the porch steps, feeling tired and achey as he clambers up. The cold and the anxiety are taking their toll. 

“ Come in, Castiel.” 

Castiel merely nods in response and follows Cain into the cabin. He’s always liked the small home, its rustic charm and one or two modern conveniences perfectly balanced and in tune with their eccentric owner. Tonight, he doesn’t pay any attention to the handmade quilt over the couch or the row of photographs beneath the large flat screen TV. Castiel’s eyes are instantly drawn to the bag on the dining table, limp and wrinkled around the shape inside. 

He can feel Cain’s presence, the light scent of aftershave as the man passes by and approaches the table. “ I have the security footage if you’d like to see. But I’m reasonably certain it was Ms. Cortese.” 

Castiel nods again, but makes no move toward the open laptop on the other end of the table. He can’t tear his eyes away from the package on the table. It’s not as though it’s a severed head or any graphically violent threat. Cain would have immediately called the police if it had been any such thing. But the very fact that the older man had deemed it necessary to hide it from the children frightens him at a primal level. He can’t make himself reach for it. 

Cain, obviously sensing his discomfort, takes pity on Castiel and removes the bag from the box and pulls the toy from its cardboard depths. It’s not a pleasant looking stuffed animal, though Castiel has enough of his wits to realize he might be prejudiced by the situation. Cain turns it over in his hands, facing it away from Castiel, and squeezes its middle.

“ Daddy’s coming, Jack! Rawr!” 

Castiel can feel the blood in his veins turning to ice, a cold numbing fear sweeping over his body at the sound of Nicholas Adler’s voice. Calling Jack’s name. Calling himself _Daddy_. 

As swiftly as the cold washes over him, a wave of heated rage replaces it. 

How dare he threaten Kelly’s son! Castiel’s son! Not Nicholas’, never his! And never will be if Castiel has anything to do with it. 

Castiel realizes his hands are clenched into fists at his side only when Cain puts the flame colored abomination back into the box and places a hand on his elbow. Squeezing gently. Castiel releases the air held hostage in his tightened chest and forces his hands to relax, shoving them into the pockets of his trench coat to fiddle with the loose threads on the inner seams. He begins twisting one around the tip of his index finger. 

“ What would you like to do, Castiel?” Cain speaks quietly, his hand dropping from Castiel’s arm, though the sense of support lingers in his mind.

“ I want to shove it down Adler’s throat until he chokes to death,” Castiel spits. Unproductive. He inhales sharply and clears his throat. “ I’m-uh-I’m open to suggestions.”

“ Dean and I filmed it, here in the light. Recorded the messages.” Cain slips the bag back over the box and pushes it to the back of the table, against the dark window. “ I doubt the police would be able to lift any viable prints from the fur, especially after being handled by Dean and myself. Though maybe from the box... I can keep it here, if you think the recording isn’t enough to hand over when needed.” 

“ Do you really think the police would consider it an actionable threat?” 

“ No, I don’t.”

“ Get rid of it, however you see fit.” 

“ Done.” Cain immediately picks up the awkwardly shaped bag and leaves the room. 

Castiel stares out the window opposite, into the darkness beyond the covered porch. Unlike the main house, which is thoroughly lit throughout the perimeter, Cain’s cabin is surrounded by natural darkness. Front and back porches are ablaze beneath modern LEDs, but the rest of the area remains undisturbed by security measures. Castiel can just see the outline of the closest trees, his own ghostly reflection blurring them further. He refuses to meet his own gaze and concentrates on staring past his image and finding more indistinct outlines in the woods. Distract himself from this newest nightmare and gather his unstable emotions back under his calm facade. 

Cain returns less than a minute later, empty handed, and stops behind one of the chairs pushed under the table. He leans forward and curls his hands over the backrest, bracing his arms. He joins Castiel in staring out the window. Except Cain finds Castiel’s gaze in the reflection and keeps it from wandering off. 

The silence hangs heavily for long moments. 

Castiel blinks. “ What am I going to do?” Voice rough, barely a whisper scratching out of his dry throat. He knows the answer, but needs the verbal reminder to get his head on straight before facing the children. 

Cain is reliable as ever. “ What you’ve always done. Take care of the children. Take care of yourself. Let the people who care about you help you.” 

It seems too much and, sadly, not nearly enough. 

After a few more reassurances from Cain and a resigned acceptance from Castiel, the younger man gets back in the car, purposefully numb after the rush of strong emotions. A bag of red and green colored honey candy sits on the passenger seat, Cain’s quasi-fabricated excuse for seeing him. Castiel barely remembers the drive back to the house and only snaps out of it when he sees Dean’s broad figure in the open doorway, washed out in the bright lights. Waiting for him. 

Dean ducks back inside when Castiel reaches the steps, allowing him space to enter. Castiel locks and bolts the door, arms the security system. 

But he doesn’t feel safe. 

“ Claire’s good, but Jack’s already nodding off.” Dean speaks quietly, stepping closer into Castiel’s space, but still a modest distance away. Too far away, as far as Castiel is concerned. 

Too far away is safer for Dean, though. Castiel smacks the intrusive thought away, but the truth of it echoes still. This is dangerous. Simply being acquainted with Castiel puts people in the line of fire and Castiel doesn’t want to drag Dean into this mess. That would be the best thing to do. Keep Dean at a distance, let Dean keep his distance. Distracted by his conflicting emotions, Castiel nods absently. “ It’s Christmas break, for all of us, so I’ll let them be. I’ll carry them to bed later.” 

“ Okay.” Dean shifts his weight from foot to foot. Castiel only notices because Dean chews on his lower lip in sync with the motion. Then Dean is reaching out like before, a firm grip on Castiel’s shoulder. It feels just as wonderful as it did earlier.“ How’re you doing?” 

Castiel stares wordlessly. At beautiful caring Dean who just risked his own safety to keep Castiel and the children safe. Who watched over the children while Castiel dealt with the issue to keep them from worrying. Who asks how Castiel is, instead of politely making his exit back to his disrupted evening. 

It’s the final straw of an emotional evening. 

Castiel can’t stop staring. And he can’t stop the swell of emotions that he thought he’d tamped down at Cain’s earlier. Fear and anger and an utter hopelessness that overwhelms his higher functions. Forcibly ripping his gaze away from Dean’s soft concern, Castiel swallows thickly and gives a silent shrug. Because if he opens his mouth he’s going to break down completely. 

And then Dean is _right_ there. Strong arms around his shoulders, pulling him tight against Dean’s chest. A hand sliding up to cradle the back of his skull as Castiel buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. Warm breath in the hair above his ear. Castiel presses his nose into the soft flannel collar and fights the burn at the back of his throat. He lifts his arms and wraps them around Dean’s back, hands fisting in the loose shirt. Clinging. 

Now, Castiel feels safe. 

He allows a few ragged breaths to be absorbed by Dean’s shoulder, allows himself to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and whatever Dean had for dinner, reminiscent of Cain’s cabin. Then Castiel sucks in a steadying breath and lifts his head, unclenches his hands. He leaves them splayed on Dean’s back, unable to completely move away just yet. Allowing himself a few extra seconds of comfort.

And Dean doesn’t seem inclined to release him. The hand in Castiel’s hair slips down to curve around his neck, rubbing gently as they stand cheek to cheek. “ Cas, what can I do for you tonight?” Dean whispers, mouth still so close to Castiel’s ear. “ What do you need?”

Selfish and stupid and irresponsible and-- “ Stay a little longer? Please?” Castiel hears his own rough whisper in reply. He shouldn’t ask this of Dean, but Dean offered and Castiel is so Goddamn tired. And afraid. “ Until the movie is over?” 

“ No problem.” Dean squeezes him again, then loosens his embrace to pull back just enough for them to make proper eye contact. Still close enough to feel warmth breath washing over his chin. “ I’ve got the morning off. I can crash on the couch tonight.”

Castiel shakes his head, unintentionally widening the space between them to keep from headbutting the taller man. “ No, Dean. That’s too much. You’re right next door, we’ll be fine--”

“ You’d feel better if I was here, though, right?” Dean is staring right back at him, daring him to argue. 

Castiel can’t answer that. At least, not truthfully. He looks away and chews on his tongue. 

Dean accepts his silence as the acquiescence it is and gives a soft smile. “ Besides, you have one of the most comfortable couches ever. It’s not that much of a hardship.” 

Castiel still feels too overwhelmed by tonight’s emotional rollercoaster for an intelligent response. So he leans forward and pulls Dean back into a hug, less desperate than the previous one, and repeats, “ Thank you, Dean. For everything you’ve--”

“ You’re important to me, Cas. You and the kids.” Dean’s cheek heats up against Castiel’s. There’s a slight rub of stubble, then Dean pulls away and clears his throat. “ And I want to help.” 

He _is_ blushing. Castiel had wondered about the extra warmth under the scruff. He smiles, small but genuine, and decides to move through what could possibly be an awkward moment of emotional vulnerability for the younger man. Stepping away, Castiel pulls the bag of honey candy from his pocket and hands it over to Dean, before shrugging out of the trench coat. “ They can each have one, if they’re still awake.” 

“ Yeah, cool.” Dean is still looking at him, as though waiting for an opening to say something. But then he looks down and actually registers what’s in his hand and his entire face lights up, childlike in its uncomplicated joy. “ Oh! I love this kind!”

Castiel huffs a laugh and pushes Dean’s shoulder to get him going toward the den where the children are waiting. “ I suppose you can have one, too. And breakfast in the morning.” 

Dean flashes him the brightest smile before disappearing around the corner and Castiel mentally catalogues what’s in his fridge, intent on making the best breakfast possible with his meager cooking skills.

 

**XOXOXOX**

Dean wakes up in the early morning because…

He’s not in his bed.

He’s not in his home.

He’d been having a nightmare.

The Something from his nightmare is clawing at his back.

He quickly squashes his knee jerk reaction to flip over and wrestle the suddenly solid phantom off him and put it into a chokehold. Because in the lightness of predawn and high-powered security lights streaming through the open blinds, Dean looks over his shoulder and recognizes the small- but inhumanly heavy- form of Jack clambering along his person. His heartbeat slows, his breath escaping in a long whoosh of relief. The fear from the nightmare, and startling awake, ebbs away with each of Jack’s irritated huffs.

The boy isn’t having an easy time of it, grabbing the blanket to pull himself up only to have it slide down with him. Dean rolls over from his stomach to his back, throwing the blanket back over the couch cushions, exposing his borrowed-pajama clad body to the cold air. Jack is quick to accept the invitation and Dean just manages to get his hand over his groin to protect it from pointy elbows and jabby knees as Jack grabs fistfuls of Dean’s t-shirt ( and the flesh underneath) and hauls himself up. It takes a long moment for Jack to settle and Dean wonders if he’ll be able to fall back to sleep when the little body finally slumps bonelessly atop him. Dean drops the blanket over them both, tucking it under his side to cocoon them together. Jack rubs his face against Dean’s chest, then stills with a small sleepy sigh. Dean curves his arm over the boy, holding him securely in place. Several peaceful minutes pass and Dean can feel himself slowly sliding back into sleep, eased by the comfort Jack’s warm presence. 

He could get used to this. 

He _wants_ to get use to this.

Dean smiles and lets his mind sink back into a warm, worry-free slumber.

_**tbc…** _


	18. Twas the Night before Christmas and Nothing was Wrapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Gabriel have a few drinks, talk about Dean, and attempt to assemble, prep, and wrap a million presents. On Christmas Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remembered to post on Sunday!!!! So, I've been extra scattered lately because I have been prepping for surgery next week. Which means, one of two things; I will either be exceedingly bored and get lots of extra writing done over the next few weeks in recovery, or I will be miserable and remain as unconscious as possible until I'm forced back to work :) I'm hoping for the former *fingers crossed*
> 
> As always, all the thank yous to everyone who reads, kudos, or comments!!!!!

**Chapter 18 : Twas the Night before Christmas and Nothing was Wrapped**

**Christmas Eve 2018**

“ Soooooo, he spent the night on the _couch_.” 

“ Yes.”

“ Did you at least give him a thank you blow job?”

“ Gross. And no.” Castiel clumsily digs one-handed in his pocket for his phone, pulling it free and swiping through his photos. “ This was even better.” He shows Gabriel the picture of Jack sprawled over Dean, both fast asleep, both their mouths parted slightly. Both drooling. Though that’s hard to see in the low light of the photo, but Castiel had clearly seen the damp spot on Dean’s chest from Jack, and the dark wet patch on the pillow from Dean, when he’d gotten up the next morning to start the promised breakfast. 

“ That is fucking adorable.” 

“ So fucking adorable.” 

“ Drunk you is sweary. I like.” 

“ Not drunk.” And Castiel isn’t. Barely even tipsy. Not even as tipsy as he’d gotten at Thanksgiving. That had been a bottle of red wine and four Disaronna sours, and two whiskeys neat tipsy. This is just four whiskeys neat _relaxed_ and Castiel is very much enjoying it. Along with the Christmas Eve company. 

It’s been two hours since the children were abed, and seventy-five minutes since Castiel checked to make certain they were both fully asleep in his brother’s guest room. Castiel had given Gabriel an extra tight hug after seeing the decorations the man had put up just for the children. Gabriel had turned his guest room into a winter candyland complete with gingerbread house bed canopy, cookie printed sleeping bags, six foot tall plastic candy canes flanking the doorway, and dozens of smaller atmospheric pieces that completely transformed the normally gaudy room. He’d even replaced the semi-nude paintings with white tinsel wreaths covered in frosted plastic candy (normally they were just shoved into the utility closet, the walls left blank when the children visited.) Claire and Jack had to be dragged away for dinner and everyone had ended up piled together on the queen sized bed afterward to watch _Elf_ because the children had begged to return to the Christmas wonderland of _their_ room. 

The other areas of the luxe apartment or no less decorated, though slightly more mature in taste. Gabriel has a high quality artificial tree in the living room, strung with white lights and white and gold decorations shaped like various candies. Faux fir boughs and garlands highlight the window wall that looks out over downtown Nashville, gold glitter bows tying them in place. It’s oddly tasteful and Castiel suspects Kali had a hand in it before she left to visit her own family in India. 

Gabriel himself seems more settled since he and Kali have decided to give it another go. He’s the one who brought out the top shelf whiskey when the children were securely in their beds, but Gabriel has remained uncharacteristically sober; still sipping on his first pour as Castiel slurped up his third. Gabriel looks warm and loose limbed, like Castiel feels, but his laughter isn’t as braying, his jokes not as off color. Castiel realizes this is one of his favorite sides of Gabriel’s. Responsible-thoughtful-adult Gabriel who goes overboard on decorating for someone else’s kids and then stays up late into the night on Christmas Eve helping his younger brother set up the presents and assemble an entire Playskool kitchen set. 

Currently, Gabriel is removing all the twist ties and plastic brackets holding Jack’s toys in their boxes before haphazardly wrapping them in red and green striped paper. Jack was very patient last Christmas, but it had taken Castiel nearly an hour just getting toys out of their packaging, the items so tightly held in place by an inordinate amount of strappings it made it impossible for the toddler to do it on his own. Gabriel had mentioned the pre-wrapping removal trick (on recommendation from Kali’s sister, mother of three) and offered to make the presents more toddler friendly. 

Castiel has two pages of instructions on the coffee table and a screwdriver clenched in his teeth, attempting to get a thick plastic cupboard door wedged into place before inserting the large plastic screws. It’s much more difficult than the instructions led him to believe. He spits the screwdriver onto the floor at his side, frustrated by its lack of usefulness.

“ Was Dean okay with the little bedwetter using him as a pee pad?” Gabriel asks as he cuts through the last heavy duty plastic zip tie on the back of a Fisher-Price Bat Cave/Wayne Manor playset. He begins sizing a large swathe of wrapping paper. 

“ He’s only two, Gabriel. How old were you when you stopped wetting the bed?” Castiel chuckles when Gabriel flips him off. “ But yes, his pull-up was wet when he and Dean finally woke up. And Dean was perfectly fine with it.” 

They’d been just as cute waking up as they’d been asleep. Castiel had placed a pan of bacon and sausage links into the oven, started a pot of coffee, and peeked into the den to find Dean awake, eyes barely open, big hand smoothing over Jack’s back. Jack had wiggled his way up Dean’s chest, little arms around his neck, nose against his throat. Practically choking the man. And yet Dean was attempting to wake the boy gently, petting his back and whispering a soft chorus of, _“ Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey, Jack.”_ The boy had finally stirred, yawning wide in Dean’s face (Dean turning away from the morning breath) and quickly slid out from under the blanket to the floor. Jack had made a beeline for the bathroom then, Castiel following with a grinning morning greeting for the sweet man on his couch who shyly waved back. So fucking adorable. 

“Need help with that?” Gabriel smirks over his glass tumbler. 

“ No,” Castiel mumbles through a sigh. He shifts forward onto his knees and presses his weight- carefully- onto the door until the opposite edge finally pops into place between the hinges on the cabinet. Exhaling loudly, Castiel flops back onto his butt and takes a swig of whiskey. He squints, eyeing the half finished playset. “ Are you sure this will fit in my car when it’s done?” 

“ Yes, Cassie, it will fit in your land yacht.” Gabriel sets his glass down and picks up the bag of shiny colored premade bows. He is not the world’s neatest gift wrapper, but more than makes up for it with copious amounts of ribbons and bows. He presses two red plaid ones on the top of the finished present in his lap, one on each end of the oblong shape, and sets it under the tree with the rest of Jack’s similarly wrapped gifts. Claire’s are on the other side of the tree, in complementary red and silver star paper. The adults’ are nearly lost in the middle. “ I actually measured the trunk when you were here Thanksgiving weekend.” 

“ Oh, well… thank you.” Castiel finishes up the whiskey, his last of the night, and slowly gets to his feet. Every joint between his ankles and neck popping loudly. 

“ Christ, you’re old,” Gabriel jabs.

“ You’re older. Fuck you,” Castiel jabs back. Then groans as he stretches his arms high above his head, working out the last bit of tightness in his back and shoulders. He’s been hunched over far too long, muscles protesting the strained position. Grabbing the glass from the coffee table, Castiel pads across the hardwood to the kitchen tiles of the open floor plan, and rinses his glass in the sink. His body appreciates the movement, slowly loosening up with the motion and last of the whiskey. 

Castiel stares over the kitchen bar, watching Gabriel sort through the as yet untampered with gifts for his next victim. It’s a very domestic scene, very heartwarming. His older brother helping with presents, the tree sparkling nearby, quiet jazz instrumentals of Christmas classics playing on the speakers. It still smells like the gingerbread cookies they made after dinner. Last Christmas, everything had still been too new, too uncertain. He and the children are settled now, the horrible events, not forgotten, but faded. Castiel feels as though he’s going to enjoy this Christmas, despite Nick’s most recent attacks. 

And, Castiel can admit to himself that it’s mainly because of Dean’s increased presence in their lives. In his life. 

“ Seriously, though, Cassie,” Gabriel pipes up as he drags a child-sized Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle into his lap. “ Sounds like Dean spends more time at your place than he does his own now. And the rest of the time, you and the kids are packed into his shoebox apartment.”

“ It’s not that small.” 

“ Was gonna make a dick joke, but I’m trying to be the mature one here, so… Not the point.” 

“ I know,” Castiel slumps back toward the living room. He’s honestly in too good a mood to deny his brother’s inferences. Hasn’t wanted to deny his own feelings on the matter for a while now. Especially after the evil dragon fiasco. Especially since Castiel found his practically-adopted son curled up on top of his could-be boyfriend. Still… “ But _you_ know I have a laundry list of reasons why I shouldn’t become involved with anyone right now.”

“ I certainly do, _but_ I think becoming “ involved with someone”, “ he does the finger quotes just to irritate. “ Would make that list feel not quite as shit-tastic.” 

“ Explain.”

“ I know number one is this whole thing with Nick Adler; the stalking, the threats, etcetera. But since Dean-o’s been hanging around more, even spending the night, couch notwithstanding, you’ve been happier. More relaxed. Not jumping at every shadow like you have been for the past couple of years.”

Castiel eases back into his spot on the floor, leaning an elbow on the coffee table and propping his chin in his palm. He watches Gabriel struggle with a row of twist ties. “ I can’t deny that it’s… easier with Dean around.” Since the man moved next door Castiel has noticed a marked decline in his stress related aches and pains. He’s been working on the same roll of _Tums_ for nearly a month when he used to be on a roll-per-day regimen. “ I didn’t realize how often we shared meals until I ended up with surplus from last month’s grocery budget,” he chuckles. “ Even with extra spending on Thanksgiving.”

Gabriel shakes his head, never looking up from his work. “ No, it’s more than that. You’re happy. Like full on twitterpated, shit eating grin, have-my-babies happy.” 

It’s almost an accusation, Gabriel’s tone practically daring him to refute the claim of contentment. And Castiel almost, _almost_ , does despite his earlier mood. Because the harder Gabriel pushes- gentle, but persistent- the more he stirs up Castiel’s hopes that a relationship is a realistic and achievable goal. Not just some casual crush to fantasize about when he feels lonely, while convincing himself of its impossibility. But with those hopes is a current of doubt, deeply ingrained, that reminds him that happiness can be dangerous. That happiness lowers his carefully built protective walls, even blinds him at times, leaving him open for disappointment and heartbreak, at the very least. With his life now, it could very well lead to physical harm, to him and the children. And all because his heart flutters whenever Dean turns that soft smile his way. “ ...I am. God help me, but I really am.” 

Gabriel finally looks up, face twisted in brotherly exasperation. “ You actually feel guilty about that, don’t you?” 

“ I do, yes, but I don’t think it’s been the main reason for me not pursuing Dean.” Castiel glances around the floor and finds the matching cupboard door. He pulls it close, but merely lets it rest on his thigh, as he voices his worries. “ It’s the fear. Being afraid of something happening to anyone I get close to. It’s already paralyzing, just thinking about what could happen to the children. I don’t want to add to that.” 

“ But being with him makes the stress of everything else a whole helluva lot better, doesn’t it?” Gabriel shrugs when Castiel doesn’t respond immediately, and continues wrapping the Ninja Turtle. “ I’m just saying, I don’t think _anyone_ is good enough for you, and Dean Winchester is far from perfect, but he’s about as close as it’s gonna get.” 

“ Yeah…” Castiel lets it trail off because despite all his fears and doubts, he’d really made up his mind that morning with Dean and Jack on the couch. But Gabriel’s blessing is the icing on the cake. And the brotherly encouragement he didn’t know he needed to dispel some of the guilt around his decision. Of course, now he has other worries. Like how he’s going to go about courting Dean. Or, maybe all this time beforehand has been the courting and now Castiel just needs to ask the man out on a date? But when? The timing could be better. The holidays are busy for everyone; between family, friends, and work obligations they actually haven’t seen each other very much in the last couple of weeks. Usually a bit in the evenings, or passing like ships in the night in their driveway as one comes home and the other heads out. He’ll have to find out when Meg is available so he can take Dean out somewhere. Somewhere nice. First dates should be special. 

“ I can hear you overthinking. Stop.” Gabriel tosses a silver glittery bow toward Castiel’s head. 

Castiel bats it away before it strikes. “ It’s logistics. Not overthinking.” He rolls onto his knees again, last cupboard door in hand, and begins the arduous task of shoving it into place. “ In case you’ve forgotten within the last five minutes, I have two young children who have to be watched by one of the very few people I actually trust with them. People with nontraditional, and often unpredictable, schedules.”

“ I realize you want to impress the guy, but first, he’s already head over heels for ya. And second, you’re both homebodies, if you hadn’t noticed.” 

“ Yes, but…”

“ You want it to be special, I know. Look, before the holiday season wrecked everyone’s schedules, you two used to have dinner together pretty regularly, right?”

“ Whenever we could, yes. Family dinners.”

“ Then just make an extra nice dinner at your place. Or hell, I can give you some numbers and you can just have it catered. No work, no fuss, all the yummy rewards. And you two can quietly shag after the kiddos go to bed.” 

That actually sounds like a good idea. Not the part about shagging after the children are in bed, though maybe some making out? And not Gabriel’s catering contacts, but most places offer online ordering and carry-out nowadays. Castiel will keep it in mind. He huffs suddenly, not quite laughter, but easy and lighthearted. “ I’m getting ahead of myself, even without your encouragement. Dean hasn’t agreed to anything yet.” 

“ No worries there. He’s so smitten with you it’s downright sickening. I can’t believe he’s managed to not make a move on you all these months.” 

Castiel swallows down a little rush of guilt. “ He did, once. In September, not long after he moved in.”

“ What a douche.”

“ Gabriel.” The door snaps into place and Castiel swings it open and shut a few times to make sure it works properly. Satisfied, he sets the playset upright and begins looking for the bag of plastic screws to secure the pieces together. It helps keep his flushed face downturned, away from his brother’s scrutiny. “ I was swept up in it, at first. Then remembered what my life was like and turned him down. He was very understanding, and he’s been a perfect gentleman since. Even when… even when I’ve experienced a moment- or two- of weakness.” 

Gabriel’s mouth drops open in exaggerated shock, his hands coming up to frame his scandalized expression. “ Cassie! Have you been dragging this poor man along the entire time?”

“ No! I wouldn’t do that! There’s simply been a few times where my resolve was tested by circumstances beyond my control and--.” 

“ Cocktease,” Gabriel declares.

“ End of discussion,” Castiel huffs.

“ Hey, Cassie.”

“ What, Gabriel?” 

“ Merry Christmas, little brother.” Gabriel points at the digital clock on the Blue-ray player. 

It’s four minutes past midnight. Christmas Day. 

Castiel turns back to Gabriel, warm smile mirroring the older man’s. “ Merry Christmas to you, too, big brother.” 

 

_**tbc…** _


	19. Auld Lang Syne, Sweetheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some New Year's happenings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm posting this "early" for two reasons. 1) I am still overly emotional about this most recent episode and need some happy. 2) I wanted something up in case I don't feel capable of posting on my scheduled Sunday. 
> 
> Many thanks, y'all are awesome!!!

**Chapter 19 : Auld Lang Syne, Sweetheart**

**New Year’s Eve 2018/ New Year’s Day 2019**

_Dean- 7:50pm:_ barely here an hour n sam is already trynna make me wear a party hat  
 _Dean- 7:55pm:_ these dorks  
 _Photo attached_

_Cas- 8:12pm:_ Much tamer than my household. Gabriel is a bad influence.  
 _Video attached_

_Dean- 8:30pm:_ cuz they’re all wearin light up leis or drinkin champagne from margraita glasses?  
 _Dean- 8:31pm:_ or dancin the macaroon?  
 _Dean- 8:31pm:_ *macarena  
 _Dean- 8:33pm:_ the excess is very gatsby ;)

_Cas- 8:39pm:_ All of the above. And it’s sparkling pear cider. How’s your evening so far? Other than the ongoing saga of the Unwanted Party Hat.

_Dean- 8:44pm:_ yeah, other than the hat, pretty good. bobby n ellen r embarassin jo in front of victor. glad its not me, lol. i can’t get alex back from jo. n sam nearly fell into teh tree cuz he trippd ovr the new puppy  
 _Dean- 8:44pm:_ also wearing a party hat  
 _Photo attached_  
 _Dean- 8:46pm:_ and all without the help of booze. you n gabe gonna get lit after the kiddos go to bed?

_Cas- 9:02pm:_ We decided on cider for all in order to avoid any possible cup mix-ups. There might be a celebratory whiskey apiece once Claire is asleep. Jack is already snoring on the couch.  
 _Photo attached_

 

_Dean- 9:17pm:_ lmao, he looks like a frat boy after a kegger. i just got alex down, had to pry him outta victorss arms this time. he’s a big ol softie  
 _Photo attached_

_Cas- 9:23pm:_ Very sweet. Nothing at all like you. ;)   
_Cas- 9:24pm:_ Remind me, again. How early did you arrive just so you could have more time for “ baby smoochies”? ;D 

 

_Dean- 9:47pm:_ hey! i let them squish him for a solid hour before i even got my first baby smooch! :P

_Cas- 9:51pm:_ You’re a very generous uncle, Dean. I’m proud of you.

_Dean- 10:04pm:_ awwww, makin me blush, cas ;) 

_Cas- 10:05pm:_ Well, you are lovely when you blush :)   
_Cas- 10:05pm:_ Makes the green of your eyes even brighter. 

_Dean- 10:06pm:_ lol, really? tell me more abot how gorgeous i am 

_Cas- 10:07pm:_ More than gorgeous. Beautiful. From your eye crinkles down to your bow legs.

_Dean- 10:09pm:_ haha, you’re funny ;P  
 _Dean- 10:09pm:_ if that’s how we’re playin, then you’re the hottest guy iv’e ever met in my life  
 _Dean- 10:10pm:_ from your beatiful baby blues to your crooked left pinky toe

_Cas- 10:11pm:_ You noticed that???

_Dean- 10:13pm:_ dude, ur barefoot all the freakn time, makes my own feet cold just lookin at ya

_Cas- 10:17pm:_ Is that why your socks are thick enough for arctic exploration? Seeing those make me hot.   
_Cas- 10:18pm:_ Well, among other things. 

_Dean- 10:23pm:_ other thngs what? make you hot?

_Cas- 10:49pm:_ Claire wants to know if you eat black-eyed peas and greens on New Year’s Day.  
 _Cas- 10:50pm:_ Other things that make me hot, hmmm… your flannel shirts.

_Dean- 10:54pm:_ i still wear half the layers you do! and yes, we do, y’all ar more than welcome to come over to sam n jess’ tomorrow for lunch

_Cas- 10:59pm:_ We’d be delighted, thank you. Let’s see, having dinner at your place, watching you drool over some atrocious 80s film. Makes me hot. 

_Dean- 11:07pm:_ u had yur heat on in October, i had all my window sopen! my place is like 10 degrees cooler thna yours!

_Cas- 11:08pm:_ And when you laugh.   
_Cas- 11:08pm:_ And when you smile.   
_Cas- 11:09pm:_ And when you wear that one pair of jeans with the rip under the right butt cheek. 

_Dean- 11:10pm: ...Typing..._

 

_Cas- 11:11pm:_ Pretty much all of you makes me melt :D   
_Cas- 11:12pm:_ Not to mention how just the very thought of you makes me smile and how being near you makes me feel happier than I have in months.   
_Cas- 11:12pm:_ But most importantly, you have a very nice ass. (3-   
_Cas- 11:13pm:_ I tried to make a peach, like Gabriel suggested, but I don’t think it worked.

_Dean- 11:14pm:_ r u flirting?  
 _Dean- 11:16pm:_ r u drunk?  
 _Dean- 11:25:pm:_ thought u weren’t dickin tonite? i mean, its ok if u r dickin  
 _Dean- 11:26pm:_ *dickin  
 _Dean- 11:26pm:_ *dickin!  
 _Dean- 11:27pm:_ *DRINKING  
 _Dean- 11:28pm:_ fuck, i hate autocorrect  
 _Dean- 11:36pm:_ sorry. didn’t mean to make it weird, that’s on me

_Cas- 11:38pm:_ Had to put the children to bed. It’s okay, Dean. I understood what you meant.  
 _Cas- 11:39pm:_ You didn’t make it weird. Pretty sure that failed peach made it weird. And no, I’m not drinking.

_Dean- 11:40pm:_ cool, we’re cool? 

_Cas- 11:42pm:_ Always.  
 _Cas- 11:44pm:_ Though, full disclosure, I’m not drunk, but I am flirting.  
 _Cas- 11:44pm:_ And I stand behind every single one of my previous texts.  
 _Cas- 11:45pm:_ Deformed peach and all. 

_Dean- 11:50pm: ...Typing…_   
_Dean- 11:51pm: ...Typing…_   
_Dean- 11:52pm: ...Typing…_   
_Dean- 11:53pm: ...Typing…_   
_Dean- 11:54pm: ...Typing…_   
_Dean- 11:55pm: ...Typing…_   
_Dean- 11:56pm: ...Typing…_   
_Dean- 11:57pm: ...Typing…_   
_Dean- 11:58pm: ...Typing…_   
_Dean- 11:59pm: ...Typing..._

 

_Cas- 12:00am:_ Happy New Year, Dean! :D   
_Cas: 12:01am:_ Gabriel also sends New Year’s greetings.   
_Cas- 12:11am:_ I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.  
 _Cas- 12:12am:_ I have no right to initiate anything between us after rejecting you that first time. I know my actions afterwards have, at times, been hypocritical at best, and could possibly be considered harassment even. And it is certainly understandable if your feelings have changed since that night in September.   
_Cas- 12:25am:_ I apologize if I misread the situation or ever made you feel obligated to endure my behavior. I want you to know that I care deeply about you, Dean. The children think the world of you.  
 _Cas- 12:26am:_ I hope I haven’t gone too far to be forgiven. Your friendship means everything to me.  
 _Cas- 12:37am:_ Dean? I am so sorry.

**XOXOXOX**

“ Happy New Year!” 

It’s midnight and everyone is losing their collective shit around Dean, albeit, in moderated voices since Alex is asleep down the hall. 

There’s a lot of hugging and kissing going on. He’s even tugged into a few that he mindlessly returns with a fake smile plastered onto his face as his brain spins wildly to come up with a reply to Cas’ confession. He’s staring at the wall of text he’s typed into his messenger, deleted and retyped several times over. But nothing seems right. Nothing is enough. Words suck. 

Dean’s never been good with words, just not his thing. He’s a man of action, as his brother likes to describe him. Sarcastically, but accurately. 

Thinking of Sam summons him, the tall man suddenly looming over him in all his gaudy New Year glory. The tinseled sunglasses reflect Dean’s frown when he looks up. Sam pushes them up to his wide forehead, hazel eyes concerned, joy falling from his face to be replaced with worry. “ Dean? Everything okay?” 

“ Uh…” Is it? Is everything okay? The question and immediate answer that pops into his head is enough to jolt Dean back to functional. Though still a bit panicked. “ Yeah, uh, I just… I gotta go.” He shoves his phone in back pocket and tries to shoulder past his brother. 

“ Why? Did something happen?’ Sam is extra worried now, great. He blocks Dean’s escape with his sasquatch-sized body.

Dean can’t find the words or time to properly explain. He shakes his head and manages with more determination, “ No, I just _gotta_ see Cas.” 

That seems to work. Sam promptly moves out of his way, broad grin back on his stupid little brother face. “ Good luck, man.” 

Dean barely feels the congratulatory slap on the back as he makes his way around the other party goers- some noticing his flight and Sam quickly stepping in to explain- and heads to the door where his coat and boots are waiting. 

His phone buzzes, but Dean leaves it safely in his pocket. He’s compelled to keep moving, to get Baby on the road and get home and face to face with this incredible man that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head since the moment he walked into that damn exam room five months ago. It seems another lifetime ago. That lonely time Before Cas dimming with each passing day of smiles and laughter. And now… Two amazing kids. Light and warmth in blue eyes. 

Happiness.

He’s halfway home when his phone signals him again, several times in a row, Dean flinching at the sudden motion in his pocket. Slight vibration between the muffled booms of holiday fireworks. He won’t text and drive, especially on a drinking holiday on dark rural roads. But he’s missing Cas’ texts. Dean hasn’t texted back in over an hour and there’s no telling what negative conclusions Cas is jumping to right now. So Dean presses his foot a little harder against the gas pedal and steers Baby home under the colorful explosions lighting the night sky in honor of the new year. 

Home. To Cas. 

He’s anxiously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he pulls through the open gate, barely letting it clang shut behind him before driving much too fast down the gravel road toward the main house. A few tense minutes later, Dean edges around the bend and spots a lone figure exiting Cas’ side of the house under the security lights of the carport. It steps down into the drive as Dean pulls closer and he can make out the dark unruly hair poking out of the top of the autumnal colored afghan Cas keeps on the couch in the den. 

 

Cas, wrapped tightly against the cold, standing at the top of his drive next to the Pimpmobile. 

It’s agonizing to drive past, but Dean wants Baby safely in the garage _now_ because he knows regardless of whatever happens next he’s not going to want to deal with anything else tonight and his precious car shouldn’t have to suffer. He isn’t nearly as careful as he should be pulling into the garage (not quite straight, with not enough room on the passenger side) but the car is under cover and that’s all Dean needs. He hops out, door slam almost lost under another cluster of loud pops. He can just make out a shower of red and gold sparks over a distant treeline. People must be firing them off on the lakeshore.

Dean forgets the fireworks in his haste to join the other man who is now halfway across the front lawn above him. He barely remembers to aim his keyfob at the garage to close the automatic door, then Dean jogs up the hill, forcing his stride to lengthen to get him up the uneven terrain. The closer he gets the more his fears are confirmed; Cas’ expression is uncertain, hesitant. Dean feels the guilt bubbling up for leaving the man in radio silence after such an important confession. Instead of beating himself up over it, Dean is going to make it up to Cas by erasing any doubts he might have about Dean returning those flirty feelings. And so much more. 

“ Dean? I-aghmmhm!” 

Dean’s momentum sends him crashing into Cas, knocking the older man back a half step, but Dean whips both arms out and circles that strong lithe body, keeping Cas upright and in place for their mouths to meet. Enthusiastically. Maybe bordering on aggressive, but Dean can’t pull back. Not now when he can smell Cas’ aftershave and the scrape of stubble against his own is sending little electric shivers all along his body. Hairs standing on end. Their lips are parted and Dean licks inside, tasting Cain’s honey lip balm and sweeping along Cas’ tongue as it returns the gesture. 

Between one breath and the next, Dean gets out, “ Happy New Year, Cas,” before plunging back in. 

But then Cas is breaking free of Dean’s embrace. A moment of pure panicked despair. Until Cas opens his arms, opens the afghan, and throws them around Dean’s neck, wrapping them both in the thick warmth and pulling Dean into an even deeper kiss. 

Dean slides his arms around Cas, under the blanket, and holds him tightly, fingers digging into the loose material of his sweatshirt.

Because he’s not letting go anytime soon. 

_**tbc…** _


	20. Auld Lang Syne, Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas continue their New Year's Day activities.

**Chapter 20: Auld Lang Syne, Beautiful**

**Still January 1st 2019**

 

It’s different from that first time, in September. Dean had been trying to be gentle then, taking it slow and feeling his way through the tentative interaction. Now he just wants to devour Cas, to touch every inch of skin, to press every pent up emotion into the curves and angles hidden under the baggy clothes. 

He’s breathing hard, blood rushing in his ears, but he can still make out Cas’ small moans, low and breathy. They shoot straight to his dick, but Dean ignores the blooming arousal in favor of breathing in the scent surrounding him; spicy deodorant, fresh laundry detergent, artificial tropical shampoo. The afghan smells like the Novak-Kline household; cooking and Febreeze. 

It’s frightening how quickly Dean has come to associate these combined scents with peace and happiness and _home_. How Cas feels like home. 

Oxygen is finally needed and they break apart. At the lips only. Foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, bodies still flush. Dean pulls one arm around front to squeeze between them, hand cupping Cas’ cheek. Thumb caressing his temple, fingers curling in the short dark hair above his ear. The emotions swelling up are threatening to overwhelm him again. When Dean glances up, over Cas’ head, he catches movement in the storm door above them. 

Gabe is standing behind the closed tempered glass door, phone in hand. Goofy grin spread across his face.

“ I think your brother’s filming us,” Dean whispers into Cas’ ear. He’s not certain whether to be amused or angry. 

“ I’m not surprised,” Cas whispers back, chuckling softly. 

Amused it is. 

They both turn their faces to look up. But refuse to pull away from each other. 

Gabe steps out onto the porch, rarely used storm door squeaking slightly. “ Okay, you two. Go do your dirty deeds somewhere else. Children live here, for chrissakes!” His voice is low, but carries clearly in the silent night. The literal fireworks seem to be over for the evening. 

“ I’ll be in in a few minutes, Gabriel.” Cas’ voice sounds apologetic.

Dean really doesn’t want to end this right now. He doesn’t want to lose Cas’ warmth and watch him go back to his house while he goes back to his apartment and they both lie awake just thinking about each other (he hopes Cas will think about him) until tomorrow morning. But it’s freezing out here and it’s late and Cas can’t leave the kids. 

Dean’s about to just invite himself in for a brief half hour, when Gabe waves his brother’s words away with a dismissive hand. “ Your boy toy has a warm bed literally within hollerin’ distance. I’ve got the kids, you go get laid.” 

“ Gabriel, I can’t--”

“ Dude, I’m not trynna--”

“ Zip it!” Gabe glares at them both with enough heat to shut them up immediately. He jabs a finger in Cas’ direction. “ I have the kids. Go do what you need to do.” He swings it around to Dean, eyes narrowing, tone deadly. “ Treat him right, or so help me, they will _never_ find your body.” 

“ I will, promise.” It’s sweet, really, and encouraging. And a little scary, Dean can admit to himself, because he fully believes Gabe is capable of finding a way for Dean to come to some gruesome end if he felt his brother was unhappy in any way. He feels the same way about Sammy. Dean returns Gabe’s brotherly concern with a serious nod, respecting his feelings about the matter, appreciating what he’s doing for Cas. He watches Cas’ face flow through a series of emotions before it settles into a soft expression, full of gratitude. .

“ Are you sure?” But, of course, Cas still has to confirm.

“ Get outta here, you crazy kids.” Gabe’s mouth finally curves back up into his usual wide smile and he shoos them in the direction of Dean’s apartment. “ Let’s aim for breakfast by nine, ‘kay? Cool. I’m gonna upload this vid to my insta and then I am off to bed. G’night!”

Cas tries to protest the public sharing of the video but the storm and front door are already closed and the locks thudding dully into place. Leaving them, once again, alone in the frozen silence. 

Dean can’t suppress a giggle. 

Cas joins in.

It continues until a cold breeze sweeps across the back of Dean’s neck, right between the afghan and his hairline, and he shivers violently. “ Okay. I’m loving this romcom moment, but we need to get inside. Christ, you’re not even wearing shoes! What the fuck, Cas?” 

Cas rolls his eyes so hard his head follows and his neck audibly cracks. “ I was a bit preoccupied with thinking I had completely ruined our friendship, not to mention any chances of a romance, and then overwhelmed by desperate hope when I saw you returning home so early.” 

There’s another flicker of guilt over his inability to text back in a timely manner, but Dean knocks it back and pulls Cas along the lawn toward Cas’ carport. “ Here, it’s easier to go ‘round back.”

“ That’s what she said.” Cas snickers, stumbling along.

“ Cold’s affecting your brain.” Dean would honestly love to just haul Cas up into his arms, bridal style, all knight-in-shining-armor, but he knows his physical limitations and doesn’t want to injure himself, or Cas, on their first real night together. So they jog through the backyard until they reach Dean’s kitchen door where Dean manages to get his key into the lock without too much fumbling. 

And then they’re inside. Door locked. Standing in the kitchen with only the nightlight over the sink casting soft yellow light and sharp shadows across the room. 

They’re still holding hands.

But Dean is suddenly at a loss. This is really too fast, isn’t it? But is it? They’ve been dancing around each other for months, as Cain has pointed out so bluntly. But it feels too early to fall into bed together and whoa why is he thinking about that when he doesn’t even know how Cas feels about it and his own half erection is more about being warm and happy than properly horny and maybe he should just--

A face splitting yawn interrupts Dean’s mental flailing. 

“ Dean, don’t start tha _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwnnnnuuuuuhhh_ at. Dammit. See what you did?” Cas shakes his head after the yawn, almost like a dog, watery eyes blinking rapidly. 

Dean laughs quietly, then leans in to kiss the grumpy face. “ Would… would you be disappointed if we just went to bed? I mean, are you comfortable with that?” 

“ Depends on your bed.”

“ Memory foam.”

“ I’m in.” 

“ Awesome.” Dean can’t stop smiling. A big dumb goofy ass smile. He nudges Cas toward the hallway. “ You get the bathroom first. Oh shit, something to sleep in. I could text Gabe, run over and grab something if you want? Or you can borrow something of mine?” The smile is gone. He focuses a bit more on Cas’ clothing peeking between the edges of the afghan. “ Wait, you’re already in pj’s.” He is. Pale blue with bumblebees buzzing among the cloud pattern, familiar university hoodie on top.

Cas comes back to Dean and takes both hands in his, both pairs still cold from outside. Blue eyes soft and sincere. Little smile barely crinkling the edges. “ Take a breath, Dean.” One hand reaches up to press firmly against Dean’s chest, the pressure solid even through his thick canvas coat as Dean takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly. “ How about, you take the bathroom first while I send annoying reminders to Gabriel about Jack’s propensity toward sleepwalking, and I’ll use the bathroom while you get comfortable. We’ll meet in the bed when we’re both done. Okay?’

“ Sounds like a plan.” Dean is smiling again. When Cas steps away, Dean takes the afghan from his shoulders, carefully folding it before handing it back. He knows how precious the blanket is; one of Amelia’s first completed crocheting projects. Cas says a quiet thanks and moves toward the living room, phone pulled from his hoodie pocket. 

Dean watches him walk away as he takes off his outer gear and stores it properly. He’s already trying to remember what t-shirts and lounge pants he has clean in his dresser drawers. Nothing as cute as what Cas has on, but there has to be something without too many holes. 

Dean makes quick work in the bathroom; take a leak, wash his face, brush his teeth, lotion his dry hands. Quick whore’s bath with baby wipes because he wants to be clean and smell good even if they aren’t going to bump-n-grind tonight. And he’s pretty sure there’s not going to be any real hanky panky because they’re both exhausted, physically and emotionally, and this is, like, not even a first date. Is it? Dean supposes all the other times they’ve had together could be considered first dates. They’ve spent a lot of time together since Dean moved into the apartment. 

Another yawn disrupts his thoughts and Dean pushes all thoughts of possible sexy times out of his mind. It’s not happening tonight. 

Unless Cas wants it to. 

“ You’re thinking awful loudly.” 

Dean jumps, startled by the voice so close to his ear. He’s standing in the hallway, just outside the bathroom door, Cas right next to him. Shit, he’d gotten so caught up in his head he hadn’t even heard Cas creep up on him. 

“ It’s okay. I’ve got a lot on my mind, as well.” Cas leans in, brushing a soft kiss to the underside of Dean’s jaw.

Dean resists the urge to melt into a puddle. “ Yeah? What’s on your mind?” 

 

“ Well,” Cas slowly makes his way to the other side of Dean’s face, leaving small kisses in his wake. “ I’m thinking about how much I want to worship every inch of your body until you completely come apart beneath me.” When he reaches the opposite ear, Cas drops his head to Dean’s shoulder and sighs heavily. “ But I’m literally going to fall asleep standing up if I don’t get to a bed soon.” 

Dean is still recovering from Cas’ first statement, shivers running across his skin, a low burn growing in his belly. But he huffs his own sigh and rests his cheek against the temple nearby, kissing it softly. “ Same.” 

“ Alright, then. Get yourself in bed. I’ll be there shortly.” 

Dean responds with a smile and slips away to his bedroom as Cas enters the bathroom and closes the door behind him. Having his little mental debate verbalized in such a sympathetic, and sexy, way really helped Dean get over the little glitch. He happily strips down and redresses in clean boxers and a pair of thin grey lounge pants. There’s an even thinner wash worn AC/DC t-shirt in hand when his cell phone buzzes loudly against the wooden nightstand where he’d plugged it in before his bathroom break. 

Dean drops the shirt onto the bed as he crosses the room to retrieve his phone and check the messages. A text from Sam, asking if he made it home and how it went. Dean replies with a brief assurance of his safety and that things are fine. Once sent, the bright red icon on his messenger mocks him with a high number of unread texts. Swallowing down a twinge of anxiety, Dean opens the conversation thread with Cas and scans the messages he missed. 

Shit. He owes Cas so many hugs and kisses to make up for the hour long limbo. 

He’s just plugging the phone back in to charge when Cas appears in the doorway. 

The hoodie is folded and placed on the chair next to the dresser. Cas is left in his bee pants and a plain black undershirt that hangs just right off his broad shoulders and chest. And Cas is blushing slightly, eyes averted as he gestures down to his bare feet. “ I uh, I hope you don’t mind. My socks were dirty- from outside- so I put them in the hamper in the bathroom.”

“ Yeah, Cas. That’s cool.” Dean likes the blush on the other man’s cheeks. Is it from embarrassment over the socks? Or because Dean is shirtless? Well, there’s a quick way to find out. “ I usually don’t sleep in a shirt, well, I’m usually just in boxers honestly because I overheat. But I can…” He lets it trail off and raises the t-shirt in hand for a yay or nay. 

“ Don’t make yourself uncomfortable on my account, Dean.” Cas is quick to bring his gaze up to meet Dean’s, earnest expression across his still pink face. “ I wasn’t much of a pajamas in bed person until I had to start getting up in the night to check on Jack. It was just easier to sleep dressed instead of struggling to find my clothes each time I had to get up.” 

“ No kids tonight. If you want.” Dean offers, putting the t-shirt back into its drawer. 

Cas stills, one hand reaching up and rubbing under his right sleeve. 

Dean noticed the thin white lines dragging from Cas’ elbow up into the short shirtsleeve he was wearing that first day when Cas and the kids greeted him as he moved in. He’s always wondered how Cas got them and how extensive they are. But he’s never seen Cas shirtless and never got up the nerve to ask. Seemed too personal, even as friends. But he’s noticed, every time, how Cas doesn’t seem overly embarrassed by the scars (even seems to forget about them most of the time), but still unconsciously moves to cover them when they come under scrutiny.. 

He’s certainly not going to push it tonight. “ C’mon.” Dean reaches out his hand, smile soft and gentle. “ Let’s go to bed.” 

 

**XOXOXOX**

 

He’d known. The moment he agreed to come to Dean’s bed, Castiel knew he’d have to decide to take off his shirt. Or not. To lie about the scars. Or not. 

Castiel could tell the truth. But there’s so much going on in the moment, the last thing he wants to deal with right now is some weird dramatic reveal that will greatly alter the course of their first night together.

So he drops his hand into Dean’s, smiling at the solid grip, and allows the man to lead him to the king sized bed shoved into the far corner, still taking up most of the space in the small bedroom. 

Dean catches his amused little smirk and defends himself with, “ I take my sleep seriously.” 

“ I can see that,” Castiel nods in affirmation. 

“ Inside or outside?” 

“ Inside?” 

He laughs a little when Dean flips the comforter all the way to the foot of the bed, with an extra dramatic flourish, then pulls back the covers and holds them up for Castiel to crawl over the wide expanse of mattress and settle near the wall. In all honesty, he’s not married to either side of the bed, but there is something comforting about having the wall at his back and Dean’s solid body at his front when the other man slides next to him, pulling the sheet and blanket up to their shoulders. 

Castiel settles on his side (the scarred one), head cradled in the soft pillow, watching Dean turn off the bedside lamp and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness as Dean settles in, facing him. An arm is tossed over his side, pulling him closer, resting heavy in the slight dip of his hip. Castiel reciprocates with his top arm thrown over Dean’s, bent at the elbow to curve his hand around the younger man’s neck. Their unoccupied arms are trapped between them, hands beneath their chins. Dean’s fingers curl around Castiel’s upturned wrist, gently smoothing over the pulse point on the inside. Castiel hasn’t shared this simple kind of intimacy with anyone in years. 

As the minutes slowly tick by, Dean shifts several times, seemingly unable to get comfortable. 

“ … I can’t sleep.” Dean’s whisper is so close, warm breath across Castiel’s face. Irritated little huff.

“ It’s very frustrating,” Castiel agrees. He manages to snuggle another inch closer, tangling their feet together under the extra weight of the comforter at the end of the bed. The blackout curtains at the windows are doing their job admirably, a mere hint of high watt security light making it into the bedroom, just enough for Castiel to make out the vague outline of Dean’s facial features, the shine of his eyes and the momentary lack when the younger man blinks. Castiel has a completely irrational urge to touch the long eyelashes he knows are there but can’t see in the darkness. “ But I don’t mind. We could talk until we drift off, if you’d like.” 

Castiel can hear Dean lick his lips in that nervous habit of his before he speaks. “ Whatcha wanna talk ‘bout?” Dean’s fingers slip upward until they curl into the palm of Castiel’s hand. 

Castiel folds his thumb over the digits, stroking lightly. “ As long as you don’t ask if I’ve read any good books lately, we can talk about anything.” 

It gets the chuckle he’d hoped for, Dean’s breath washing over his chin. “ I guess you get that a lot, working at the library.” 

“ You have no idea.” Castiel lets his head rest deeper in the pillow. Not too soft, not too firm. “ Even working at the research level people seem to think I just read all day. And yes, there is a lot of reading involved, but it’s essentially assigned reading and not for pleasure. It’s even worse at the public library. Patrons are under the delusion that I spend my entire shift perusing James Patterson instead of working on programming, community outreach, filling in for the Children’s staff.. you know, things that actually keep the library running properly. It takes me a month to get through a novel of my own choosing.”

“ You mean you don’t choose to read _Penguin Problems_ every single night?” 

“ Okay, I do enjoy Jory John’s work. The humor is very relatable.” 

Dean dips his head slightly and raises their joined hands higher to rest on the bottom edge of the pillow. Castiel can feel the tip of Dean’s nose pressing lightly against his knuckles. Dean is settling down, relaxing into the mattress, into Castiel. “ People just want me to diagnose them for free. I can’t tell you how many rashes I’ve seen outside of the office because people are too embarrassed to see their primary physician.” Dean’s other hand begins moving up and down over the back of Castiel’s t-shirt, idly petting him. “ Or they want my opinions on potty training just so they can disagree. “

“ People suck, “ Castiel offers the oft shared motto of the library staff.

“ Yes, they do.” 

It’s quiet again, the minutes stretching out as they rest. Castiel is reasonably certain Dean’s eyes have been closed for some time. Finally sleeping, he expects. So he startles slightly when Dean’s rough whisper disturbs the silence. “ Hey, Cas?”

“ Yes, Dean.” Castiel gently squeezes the thumb still in his grasp, smooths his other fingers along the back of Dean’s neck.

“ We can hash out all the details tomorrow, well, whenever we wake up.” Dean tilts his face up and Castiel can see his eyes are open now, staring straight into his own. “ I know the timing isn’t ideal. I know there are things going on I don’t even know about. And I know you’re worried about me, on top of worrying about the kids and your family, everyone in your orbit. I understand there’s gonna be limitations, even more than what your average single parent deals with. I understand and I’m here.” There’s a heavy pause, then Dean chuckles quietly. “ I’m here until you tell me to go. And even then I don’t think you’d be able to get rid of me too easy.” 

Castiel can barely swallow down the strong emotions Dean’s short speech elicited in him. The fear comes, of course, and doubts. But also joy and anticipation and gratitude, enough to drown out the more negative feelings. How can he possibly respond appropriately to such a promise? Practically a vow. A thank you is on the tip of his tongue when he decides it is very much not enough and instead he pulls their hands up the remaining few inches, twists them slightly, and slowly presses a firm kiss to the back of Dean’s hand. He holds it there, lips lingering on the warm skin. Dean’s breathing has sped up and Castiel revels in the knowledge that he affects Dean just as strongly as Dean affects him. 

When he lifts his head, Dean is wide eyed, obvious even in the darkness. Castiel moves his other hand to gently cup Dean’s cheek, thumb rasping quietly over the stubble. “ I need you to know that I’m here for you, too. That you are just as important to me as Claire and Jack, as any of my family. I never want you to feel like an afterthought, or feel that you can’t share your difficulties with me because you believe they aren’t comparable to mine.” 

Dean squirms, head ducking in Castiel’s hold, embarrassed mumble. “ Not gonna stop bitching to ya ‘bout work. You know me.” 

“ I do. And that’s why I don’t want to leave my reply to your beautiful promise unspoken.” 

“ You just like to make me blush.”

“ That, too. Though I can’t see it right now.” 

“ Well, it’s there, believe me.” 

Castiel grins into the dark. Yes, he knows it’s there because he can feel the heat of Dean’s cheek flare up against his palm. It’s a simple thing, but it works wonders on his heart and unashamedly strokes his ego. He enjoys it for a few long moments before whispering, “ We’re both here. Together.” 

“ Together,” Dean agrees, his hand coming to rest on Castiel’s back between his shoulder blades. Holding him close. 

Castiel listens as the younger man yawns and snuffles into the pillow. Sleep is finally catching up to Dean. Castiel, as well. Eyelids heavy, muscles relaxed. He leans in and presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead. “ Goodnight, Dean.” 

“ G’night, Cas.” Dean’s voice is slurred and sweet. He brushes a kiss across Castiel’s chin as the older man retreats back to his own side of the large pillow. 

The heat kicks on. Another spurt of fireworks far away. Dean’s steady even breaths. His own faint heartbeat. 

Castiel smiles softly as sleep pulls him under, warm and safe in Dean’s arms. 

 

_**tbc…** _


	21. The Spanish Inquisition has Waffles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Day continues with the children and Unca Gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! The holiday weekend had many ups and downs and posting was just not happening. 
> 
> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, or comments!!!

**Chapter 21:  The Spanish Inquisition has Waffles**

 

**Still January 1st 2019**

**Friday Morning**

  
  


Castiel does not want to wake up. 

He’s comfortable and warm and abnormally content for some reason.

“ Cas? Thassyers…” 

Oh, yes. He’s in Dean’s bed. With Dean. Who promised _together_. Just the thought makes him all gooey inside.

Castiel grunts in response but refuses to unwrap himself from around the warm body he’s spooning. Being the big spoon brings a goofy smile to his face. But he still won’t open his eyes, despite the insistent buzz of his phone. 

“ Cas?” Something hard and cold is poking his shoulder. “ Iss Gabe.” 

That quickly pops Castiel’s happy bubble. He takes his phone from Dean as he rolls away, onto his back, and opens the text. Except there’s no message, just a video.  Frowning, Castiel hopes his sliver of battery life is enough and hits _play_. “ Fuck,” he whispers.

“ Wuz happnin’?” Dean hurriedly rolls over, jostling Castiel’s arm. “ Wuz wron’?” Speech still slurred by sleep, eyes barely cracked, short hair a complete wreck. 

Castiel resists the urge to snuggle the sleepy man and lets the smile spread across his face as he angles the phone so Dean can watch the video of Gabriel, Claire, and Jack destroying Castiel’s kitchen in their efforts to make breakfast.

“ Fuck,” Dean echoes. 

Castiel chuckles. He stares blearily at the keyboard, attempting a reply, but a new text comes in before he can get anything typed.

_> > 15min bfre we cum knockn_

  _ << 20, please _

_> > 17 ½ last offer _ 

Castiel sighs. “ We have fifteen minutes before Gabriel and the children come to visit.” Giving them a two and a half minute buffer in case Gabriel decides to go back to his original deadline.

Dean groans, turning his face into Castiel’s shoulder. “ They can wait a bit.” He pulls Castiel closer, snuggling tightly against his chest. “ Still sl _eeeeeee_ py.”

“ Alas, sleeping and parenting are mutually exclusive activities.” Castiel jokes, tilting his face to get an awkward kiss onto the top of Dean’s head. He nearly gets a hard skull against his nose when Dean suddenly pops half up, looking equal parts angry and spooked. 

“ Crap. I said I’m here for this and I’m already whining.”  Dean pushes a hand through his hair and pulls hard, frustration evident. 

“ Dean, in my experience, dealing with children gives one an automatic right to whine at any given time.” Castiel tilts his head slightly, staring at the ceiling in thought. “ Well, maybe not in front of aforementioned children, but any other time is fine.” He glances back at Dean, who does not look entirely convinced, and reaches up to rub his palm against the stiff bristles on Dean’s jaw. “ Hey.” He smiles when Dean lets go of his hair and drops his hand to cover Castiel’s. “ Whining is fine, we all do it. What matters is that you don’t let it keep you from doing what you need to do. Like right now, you should take advantage of our remaining ten minutes and take a shower in the comfort of your own home before being subjected to Gabriel’s overly smug face while I take a shower at mine.” 

Dean snorts, seemingly more at ease, and slowly clambers out of the large bed. Castiel doesn’t bother hiding his appreciative gaze as the younger man raises his arms high above his head and stretches. Each line of muscle along his back, every soft curve along his sides. Freckles, scattered like constellations. Castiel glances over the inked lines, pushes his attention passed them and onto the neat curves of Dean’s ears. Even his ears are perfect, the gorgeous bastard.

And then there’s a wink and a kiss blown in his direction that Castiel lazily catches and holds to his heart as Dean laughingly exits the room. 

He’s warm and happy and he closes his eyes for just a few seconds…

“ Hey, sweetheart.”

Castiel forces his eyes to open to the sight of Dean at eye level over the edge of the mattress. Strong scents of toothpaste and shampoo waft across the sheets. “ Hey, beautiful.”  

His voice is still sleep rough, but Dean seems to like what he hears, biting his plump lower lip before his whole face lights up at the compliment. As though his handsomeness has never been remarked upon, which the older man knows better. Dean pushes his hand under the blankets to find Castiel’s and close around it, thumb stroking softly in his palm. “ Want me to text Gabe and ask for more time?” 

“ No, it’s fine.” Castiel orders his body to move, to sit up and struggle against the blankets until he can swing his legs over the edge and get his feet on the cold hardwood floor. He sits there for a moment, yawning wide, scrunching his face at his own morning breath. “ I believe we will all be having a nap this afternoon.” Castiel cracks his neck to one side and looks down at Dean, still kneeling on the floor at the side of the bed. The younger man is already dressed, lacking only his shoes and coat. Castiel can hardly believe he slept through Dean getting ready just an arm’s length away. He really is tired. But family and breakfast await and he’s about to push himself up when Dean’s hand lands on his knee, halting him. 

“ Here. Socks first, Grumpy.” Dean reaches toward the foot of the bed where Castiel notices, for the first time, his neatly folded university hoodie topped by a thick pair of dark gray socks.  

Castiel had forgotten the sorry state of last night’s socks and feels strangely shy at the thought of wearing a pair of Dean’s. That feeling is magnified tenfold when Dean shifts on his knees and lifts Castiel’s right foot onto his thigh. Dean uses both hands to lightly massage over ankle and heel and instep and arch and, finally,  a gentle wiggling of toes before he slips the socks onto Castiel’s feet, one by one. Those warm green eyes peek up from under thick lashes, that light flush darkens under the freckles. Castiel honestly cannot remember the last person who made him feel so cared for.

 So loved. 

And that’s a loaded word he doesn’t think either of them are ready to drop just yet. So Castiel merely leans down and wraps Dean in his arms, still mindful of his sour breath, and whispers into the damp hair on the younger man’s crown, “ Thank you, Dean.” 

“ No problem, Cas.” Dean’s voice is breathy, barely heard even in the quiet of the bedroom. 

They stay that way until Castiel’s phone buzzes with another message from Gabriel. 

_> > 2 MIN WARNING!_

Castiel stares at the message over Dean’s head and sighs heavily. “ I love my brother, but I may kill him.”

Dean laughs and pulls away, slowly getting to his feet (rueful face as his knees pop very loudly). “ Being annoying is how he shows he cares.” He holds his hand out to help Castiel up. “ Big brothers do that.”

“ You speak from experience?” Castiel takes the offered hand and heaves himself up. Holy crap. These are quite possibly the most amazingly comfortable socks he’s ever had on his feet. He’ll have to ask Dean about them later.

“ You’d have to ask Sam.” Dean gives a sly smile. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and slips his hoodie over his head, struggling to get his uncoordinated arms through the sleeves. He downright ignores Dean’s amused grin, otherwise he’d be forced to wipe it from his face with kisses they don’t have time for.  

Dean lets him borrow a pair of ratty sneakers ( “ You’re not getting _my_ socks dirty,”) and remembers to grab the afghan from the kitchen chair before they head out into the sunny January morning. 

They take the back way, again, passing by the Novak-Kline kitchen windows where Gabriel is, again, filming them through the blinds. Castiel flips him off right before they turn the corner under the carport. He can already smell the lovely scents of fresh coffee and bacon.

Claire is the one who opens the kitchen door before they step foot on the stoop. She sticks her blonde head outside, Gabriel’s oversized Y2K novelty glasses obscuring most of her face. “ Dad and Dean are here!” 

“ Daddy! Din!” Jack is struggling to get around Claire, arms out for hugs. He’s wearing last night’s Minions 2019 paper crown he decorated at a library program. 

A different kind of warmth envelops Castiel at the sound of his children’s voices, the sight of their happy faces at his return.  He manages to bend down and scoop them each into an arm, squeezing them against each other and kissing their foreheads. “ I missed you both. Did you behave for Uncle Gabe?” 

“ Little angels,” Gabriel replies over his shoulder, still standing at the sink. “ Only dragged me out of bed at six am.” He sounds only mildly accusing.

“ Mizyoo, Daddy. Unca Gay leh cuck behkfist. Dat cuck woefulls.” 

“ We missed you when we woke up but Uncle Gabe said you and Dean were having a sleepover.”  

“ We were.” Castiel confirms, releasing the children and nudging them forward with his knees in order to get into the house and out of the cold.  He watches as Claire greets Dean with her customary fist bump and Jack demands his hug. Dean returns each with his usual enthusiasm, and an extra layer of affection. After the fist bump, Dean gently ruffles Claire’s outrageously disheveled hair. He snuggles Jack a bit longer, speaking quietly to him, Jack nodding solemnly. 

Castiel doesn’t have a chance to find out what deep philosophical discussion the two are involved in because Claire is taking the afghan from him as she locks up behind them. “ Uncle Gabe said you and Dean had a lot to talk about. What were you talking about all night?” 

“ Yeah, Cassie. What did you talk about all night?” Gabriel saunters over to the little group, drying his hands on a dish towel, comically wide-eyed and innocent.

“ Well, what did Uncle Gabe say we were talking about?”  Castiel can play this game, too. The satisfaction he gets from Gabriel’s genuine flash of fear makes getting out of bed worth it. 

“ Said Dean was gonna ask if he could kiss you and you were gonna ask if you could kiss Dean and then you were both gonna “ _get your heads outta your butts_ ” and--”

Castiel can’t hear anything else over Dean’s burst of laughter at Claire’s use of air quotes and even Castiel can appreciate the accuracy of the girl’s impression of him. He shoots Dean a look, trying for deadpan but it melts instantly since he’s greeted by the sight of Dean wearing Jack’s neon colored paper crown and Jack wearing Dean’s red plaid scarf like a little babushka. 

Dean instantly clamps his mouth shut, but he’s obviously struggling not to give in to another laugh. His face is turning red from the strain.  S-sorry. Sorry,” he chokes out. Concerned, Jack begins patting the man’s back. 

Castiel shakes his head in affectionate exasperation, then turns back to his daughter. “ Uncle Gabe was mostly right and I promise we’ll talk about it later, but right now I need to clean up for this lovely breakfast you made.”  

“ You want to show me how to set the table, big man?”  

Castiel watches as the younger man sets an enthusiastic Jack on the floor, careful to keep his crown on and Jack’s new headscarf in place. Dean smiles when he notices Castiel watching, already following behind Jack, lifting a hand to brush against the small of Castiel’s back, pressing a light kiss to the side of his neck as he passes by. The grin on Castiel’s face is not going anywhere anytime soon. 

Even when Gabriel sidles up next to him, face just as smug as Castiel had imagined. “ That was the best walk-of-shame I’ve ever witnessed.” Gabriel winks and elbows him in the ribs. 

Castiel  pokes Gabriel hard in the side. “ Be nice,” he warns. Gabriel throws his hands up in surrender and goes about helping the others set the table for New Year’s breakfast. Castiel watches a moment longer, just basking in the familial joy before making his way to his bedroom. 

It’s a quick shower, though Castiel takes the full two minutes to properly scrub his teeth because last night’s sparkling cider was not kind to his mouth.  He dresses in his best boxers (which is ridiculous but they definitely give him a boost of confidence), a clean long sleeve t-shirt and well worn, faded jeans. The hoodie, t-shirt, and pajama pants had all been dropped into the hamper, but Castiel hadn’t been able to let go of the borrowed socks. He’d worn them for less than ten minutes total. And, yes, he prefers to go barefoot inside, but… 

Castiel sits on the edge of his bed and pulls the socks back on, blushing at the memory of Dean helping him earlier. That done, he plugs his phone in to charge and heads back into the kitchen. 

Where he finds everyone already seated at the table, scarf and crown safely placed on the counter. Claire, however, has opted to wear her sunglasses pushed to the top of her head where they tangle in her messy bun. It’s not a bad job on Gabriel’s part. 

The children converse in between bites of eggs, bacon, and heavily loaded waffles. Gabriel and Dean answer as best they’re able once they swallow their own food.  Dean and Claire are sharing the window seat so Dean can help Jack sitting at the opposite end of the table from Gabriel, the toddler’s booster seat better suited to a pull-out chair than the immovable benchseat.  There’s a place setting to Jack’s right, opposite Dean and Claire. Conversation continues as Castiel slips into his seat, though he receives a warm smile from Dean and a shit-eating grin from Gabriel. 

He listens happily as he fills his plate with a little of everything and whispers a painfully grateful, “ Bless you,” for the mug of hot coffee Gabriel pours for him. His fingers brush the back of Dean’s hand as he passes the little carton of creamer.

Castiel has just gotten a wonderful mouthful of waffle and blackberry syrup when Claire finishes her thesis on whipped cream versus ice cream and sets her tenacious little hooks in Dean. “ Dad’s eating now so you can tell us what you were talking about last night.” 

Castiel chokes, just a bit.

“ Spanish Inquisition much?” Gabriel raises both brows, mildly reprimanding. 

“ Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Dean mumbles, dragging his fork through the whipped cream on top of his waffle. 

Gabriel snorts and goes back to his bacon. “ Really starting to like you, despite my better judgment.” 

Dean smiles, but rests the tines of his fork on the edge of his plate and gives Claire his full attention. After a few questioning glances at Castiel. “ Well,” he clears his throat. “ We did what Gabe said we did, and--”

“ Did you kiss ‘im?” Claire demands. 

“ Uh, yes?” Dean’s fear is bleeding through his smile. 

“ On the mouth?” 

“ Yeah?”

“ That’s how you get mono.” 

Everyone at the table, with the exception of Jack who is very much absorbed in building a waffles and strawberries tower, stares in various levels of wide eyed incredulity. 

Gabriel breaks the quiet by throwing his hands in the air and addressing his custodial panic to Castiel. “ That wasn’t me! I swear!” 

“ That’s what Nurse Alex told Kaia and Patience and she’s a nurse so she knows ‘bout that stuff.” Claire explains, nonchalantly shoveling more scrambled eggs into her mouth, not bothering to swallow before nailing Dean with, “ An’yer a pedition s’you shoul’know, too.” A few bits of egg drop onto her plate. 

Castiel wonders, very briefly,  what other information Alex is passing along to her younger adopted siblings, but instead turns his attention to saving Dean from Claire’s precociousness. “ I’m sure Dean is also aware of how contagious mononucleosis is. Just as I’m sure Nurse Alex also told Kai and Patience about the more common ways mono is transmitted, especially among children and teens. How else can you catch mono, Claire ?” He waits patiently for Claire to fill in the blanks, her sharp, if somewhat selective, memory always surprising him. 

“  Drinking outta the same cup after someone, or coughing or sneezing on someone. It’s in your spit.” She’s staring dead at Gabriel, serious tone and intense expression underlining the gravity of her shared wisdom. 

Gabriel nods his head, in thanks or agreement, Castiel isn’t certain, but Claire seems to accept it and turns back to Dean. “ So, you kissed Dad and Dad kissed you back, right?” 

“ Yes, I did.”  Castiel answers first. 

“ I’ve got proof,” snickers Gabriel.

Castiel kicks him under the table. Gabriel jumps slightly, but continues eating. 

“ Well, that sounds like a done deal, so what else was there to talk about?” Claire pushes her novelty glasses back up, the huge things wanting to slip down with every movement of her head. 

She sounds so much like Gabriel in that moment Castiel nearly laughs, but instead he gathers his carefully worded answer. Because it’s not Dean’s responsibility to answer Claire’s questions, despite his earnest attempt to do so. Castiel clears his throat and smiles gently at her curious little face. “  We talked about how we would like to kiss each other again and how we should go about making that happen. We…” And he trails off, because they didn’t actually go into details in the short time they’ve been awake this morning. So when Castiel continues, he glances at Dean to gauge his reaction. “ We talked about becoming more than friends and decided we’d like to start dating.”  Dean’s smile grows exponentially and that’s all the answer Castiel needs. 

“ Dating like Patience and Alfie? Kaia says they kiss all the freakin’ time. And they spend all their money on the movies and won’t take Kaia with them.” 

Castiel has witnessed the young couple not-so-covertly necking a few times in the library study rooms. He does not look forward to his own children reaching puberty. “ Yes, like Patience and Alfie. We would like to go out sometime, just the two of us, when we have the chance, but mostly we simply want to spend more time together. Here, or at Dean’s. Not much would change otherwise… Is that okay with you?”  He gently places the real issue in all this in his daughter's court, refusing to be nervous. Claire likes Dean and has never had any attachment to the idea of Castiel and Amelia being together. And even if, in the off chance, Claire doesn’t approve, Castiel is not giving up on Dean. They’ll work it out somehow, no matter what. 

He has no worries about Jack’s response. The boy is currently sharing his nibbled on strawberry tops with Dean.  

And, as Castiel suspected, his fears are completely unfounded. Claire shrugs- pushing the falling glasses up again- and pokes at the corner of her waffle. “ Yeah, it’s okay. You’ll get flowers and candy and stuff.” 

Castiel almost misses the little exhale from across the table, relief flooding Dean’s visibly tense frame. He had obviously been more worried about Claire’s reaction than Castiel had expected. Smiling at the younger man, Castiel replies to his daughter, “ Well, I can pass on the candy to you and Jack, but I do happen to like daisies very much.”  

“ Daisies. Got it.” Dean has a shy smile as he ducks his head. The blush rising to his face is beautiful.

“ What’s your favorite flower?” Claire is not done. “ So Dad can get them for you.”

Dean has his best thinking face on, a mischievous glint in his eyes.“ Hm, I like all flowers, so I don’t have a favorite. But I do like surprises, so I’ll like anything your dad brings me.” 

“ ‘Cause you love each other,” Claire concludes, slurping up her chocolate milk through a wildly colored crazy straw. 

There’s another heavy pause and Castiel is about to jump in again, but Dean beats him to it. After a slightly shaky exhale, Dean nods and playfully tugs one of her curls. “ Almost as much as we both love you and Jack.” 

Gabriel makes quiet gagging noises. 

Castiel kicks him again. 

“ Cool. We love you, too.” Claire smacks the offending hand away and goes back to her breakfast.

“ Dat luff yoo, Din.” Jack joins the conversation, waffle and strawberry tower mostly eaten, sticky little face beaming. “ Luff yoo, mooaw!” He sends a smacking air kiss in Dean’s direction. 

Dean catches and returns it with equal vigor. And those watery green eyes turn to Castiel for a split second before Dean hastily clears his throat and stands up, face carefully averted.“ Be right back.” 

When Castiel stands, glancing at his brother, no words are exchanged as Gabriel moves into Castiel’s seat to supervise Jack as Castiel quietly follows Dean into the dimly lit hallway. He catches the younger man’s arm before he escapes into the bathroom and leads him into his own bedroom, silently closing the door behind them. 

Dean releases a shaky laugh and rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes, smearing the unfallen tears. Hiding. “ So stupid, sorry.” 

“ Don’t be. And you’re not.” Castiel moves closer, circling Dean’s wrists and gently tugging until the hands fall away and he has full view of Dean’s damp face, mouth twisted into rueful smile. “ You care about them, about their opinion.”  Dean nods. Castiel slides his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling them closer, enjoying the weight of Dean’s arms across his shoulders as the younger man hides his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck and shoulder. “ I was a bit choked up myself, honestly. Despite Gabriel’s best efforts to ruin the moment.” 

Dean chuckles, rubbing his cheek against the side of Castiel’s neck. The light rasp of stubble is loud in the quiet, just beneath Dean’s whisper. “ It just occurred to me, you know, when you asked Claire if she was okay with us dating, that if-if the kids didn’t want us dating then you…”  Another unsteady inhale/exhale.

Castiel tightens his embrace, noses into the soft spot just under Dean’s ear. “ You were afraid I would call it all off for them.”

“ I mean, I wouldn’t be mad about it, really. The kids come first and--”

Castiel is shaking his head before the words leave his mouth. “ Dean. I’d already decided that I wasn’t letting you go, even if, for some reason, Claire decided she didn’t want us to officially date.”  He pulls back just enough to look into those lovely green eyes, wiped dry but still a hint of vulnerability left. Castiel puts as much confidence and comfort into his smile as possible as he strokes his thumb though Dean’s short hair. The younger man ever so slightly leans into the light contact. “ It may have taken some time to win her over, but I would not have given you up. When I said <i>together</i>, I meant it. This is exactly what I meant.” 

“ I know, really. It just all sorta crept up on me.” 

“ Jack’s little kiss is what sent you over isn’t it?” 

“ God, you know it.” Dean laughs quietly, but it’s steady and light. “ Kid’s got me wrapped around his little finger. Claire, too.” 

The doubts melt away before Castiel’s eyes, leaving Dean’s smile carefree, just how Castiel likes. It’s so captivating, in fact, that he can’t resist the urge to lean in and kiss it. A brief little peck that turns into three and then Dean licks his lower lip and Castiel chases his tongue with his own and it’s much like last night except his feet aren’t freezing and Dean tastes like waffles and coffee. 

And that reminds Castiel that they haven’t finished breakfast yet and he wouldn’t put it past Gabriel to send Jack after them in a moment to route them from the bedroom. He breaks the kiss slowly, shortening each motion until their lips merely touch and then the space between them increases with each breath. There’s still a responsive twitch in the front of his jeans but Castiel ignores it. Because the children are waiting and Gabriel is probably hatching a cunning plan and a quickie is not how Castiel wants to start a physical relationship with Dean.  

Besides, they have plenty of time. 

**_tbc…_ **


	22. The Big Four-Oh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January rolls on and Dean hits an age milestone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, or comments!!!

**Chapter 22:  The Big Four Oh**

 

**January 2019**

 

There’s never enough time, as far as Dean is concerned. 

Not much changes after their New Year’s confession. They go to work, the kids go to school and daycare. They have dinner together most nights and alternate kitchens. They hang out on the weekends. Dean goes to Clinic Karaoke. Cas has dinner with Meg. Logistically, Dean could be spending every night in Cas’ bed, or Cas in Dean’s bed if they have a sitter. But they’d both agreed that routine was too important to the kids to disrupt, that it would be a big change for them, as well, and in their misguided attempts at easing the kids into a new status quo, they came to the arrangement of Dean sleeping over Saturday nights so they can all spend lazy Sundays together. 

Which Dean is also fine with. Except it hasn’t happened yet. 

Because that first Saturday night Dean had already agreed to watch Alex, and now Bones the puppy, while Sam takes Jess for a romantic weekend getaway. The next Saturday, Dean has a sinus infection and is laid up in his own bed, drugged to the gills. The next Saturday Jack has a stomach bug and Dean keeps Claire at his place, hoping to spare her the same suffering and ease Cas’ workload. 

Fate suddenly seems to be against them now. Bitch. 

There’s a lot of heavy petting, hurried make-out sessions while the kids are occupied with Netflix. They even manage to get a hand down each other’s pants for some quick groping before Jack needs to use the bathroom they’re hiding in and they unlock the door with their shirt tails pulled low. 

It’s been frustrating, but nostalgic. Like teenagers trying not to get caught by their nosy parents. And Dean will readily admit that not only does he like the anticipation, but he also greatly enjoys just being in Cas’ presence, no matter what they’re doing. When he ambles back to his own apartment each night he feels emotionally satisfied, if not physically (and that’s easily remedied on a nearly twice daily basis, christ he is too old to be blowing his wad this much). 

And then, there’s Dean’s birthday. The Big Four Zero.

Dean doesn’t want to think about it.

His birthday is on a Thursday, but he agrees with Sam to have a nice dinner with him and Jess and Alex on the preceding Saturday. Because they’re family and Dean doesn’t want a big fuss.

It’s a surprise party. Of fucking course. 

Everyone from the clinic is there. Gabe and Kali are happily cooing over Alex. Jo and Victor swing by in their police uniforms before their shift, greatly impressing Claire and Jack. Cain and Jess brainstorm new items for Cain’s spring collection. Bobby and Ellen skype for over an hour as people come by to talk with the out-of-state relatives. Cas pulls Dean into the bathroom for a brief, but fantastic, necking session before the Impala shaped cake is brought out, along with an enormous apple pie ablaze with forty candles. 

The teasing is kept to a minimum and a good time is had by all. 

That night, Dean does stay over. But he and Cas are, again, both so wrung out by their chaotic lives they simply curl up together after a few kisses and quickly fall asleep. 

 

**XOXOXOX**

 

**January 24th 2019**

 

And now it’s Thursday. Dean is legally forty years old and weirdly okay with it. 

“ Hoppy berfday, Din!” 

“ Happy birthday, Dean!”

“ Happy birthday, beautiful.” 

There’d been the customary texts from friends and family. Missouri brought mint chocolate cupcakes to the clinic and Alex and Stan filled his office with black balloons. Cas invited him over for a quiet Official Birthday dinner of homemade meatloaf, mashed potatoes, roasted broccoli, and a surprise birthday treat. 

Dean grins at the trio in front of him now, Claire and Jack bookending Cas who is holding a fresh-from-the-oven rustic looking apple tart with a single candle sparkling in the middle.  He laughs at Jack’s wide eyed gaze following the candle flame as Cas sets the dessert on the table in front of him. “ Y’all are awesome, thank you!” He blows out the pink candle to massive applause, and takes a moment to study the pastry masterpiece. It’s roughly a circle, the size of a dinner plate, the crust unevenly crimped up around the edges to contain the pile of unevenly sliced apples spiraling on top. It reminds Dean of the Play-Doh treats he would help Sammy make when they were little. It is, however, a magnificently delicious golden brown all over. “ It’s beautiful ! And smells amazing!” 

“ Apple tarte tatin. Jack picked the recipe out of that new cookbook Benjamina recommended.” Cas hands a serving knife to Dean and helps Jack back into his booster seat. “ And he helped make the dough.”

“ I cut up the apples!” Claire adds, proud of her culinary skills. “ And made the fran-gee-pane.” 

“ And I tried not to stress too much,” Cas gives a rueful smirk. “ Though I admit I am quickly becoming a great admirer of Mary Berry’s recipes.” 

Dean makes a big production over what part of the tart he wants for himself, hemming and hawing until Jack points out, “ Iss allda same, Din.” Dean laughs so hard his eyes are watering, Cas is reduced to snorts. Finally, Dean gets himself back together and divides the dessert between the four small plates Cas provides. Claire scoops some vanilla bean ice cream onto each and Cas passes them around. 

“ Are you old now, Dean?” Claire asks around a mouthful of fruit and pastry. 

“ Yesh,” Dean answers confidently with his own mouth full of ice cream. 

“ Older than, Dad?” 

“ Heck no, ow!” Dean yelps as his ankle is kicked under the table. He frowns at Cas, but the man’s poker face is impenetrable. 

“ But you’re both old, right?” Claire is attempting to get a blob of ice cream to balance on a chunk of apple.

“ Daddy’s willy ode.” Jack nods his head sagely. “ Wite Santa Taws.”

Dean grins again, kicking Cas’ foot under the table. “ Yep. We’re both ancient. Like the dinosaurs.”

Cas retaliates by swiftly pinning Dean’s foot beneath his own, somewhere in the middle of the empty space under the table.  Dean’s attention is taken by Jack’s diatribe about the day’s visit to the grocery store, creating a pause in the footsie battle.  As he listens to Jack trying to describe some sort of breakfast cereal, Dean is very much aware of Cas’ foot raising up, relieving some of the pressure on his toes. And then Cas is sliding the ball of his foot down Dean’s instep, then back to circle his ankle. Slowly, gently. 

It’s not as though Dean’s never played footsie before, but something about the very deliberate motions against his socked foot and the small confident grin on Cas’ face has his own heating up. 

Claire and Jack begin a discussion about what foods taste better when they’re older and Dean and Cas listen from the sidelines, providing information when asked. They smile indulgently over the children’s heads, socked feet in constant motion. 

 

**XOXOXOX**

 

Three chaotic games of Spongebob Monopoly later (Claire is a cold calculating player and wins every round), the kids are clean and asleep, each giving Dean a final extra big birthday hug before being led off to their bedroom, while Dean picks a movie above a PG rating. 

He decides on _Roadhouse_ , because Sam Elliott is a tall fucking glass of water (and Dean suddenly realizes why he was so instantly attracted to Cain all those years ago, the similarities are remarkable) and he’s seen it a million times so he won’t be too distracted when he and Cas get a little handsy. 

Cas moves through the living room and into the kitchen, coming back to the den with two of his fancy beers. Dean isn’t complaining. He accepts one and leans in for a kiss the second Cas sits down beside him. Cas eagerly returns it,  throwing his arm over Dean’s shoulders and keeping him close as the movie starts. 

It’s not long before the beers are gone and no one is really paying any attention to the movie. Not even to Sam Elliott’s fabulous hair. Though, Dean would blushingly admit, the star’s deep twangy voice is definitely adding fuel to his fire as he and Cas steadily lose interest in the film and turn their focus on each other. 

It starts slowly, like always. They have a bit of a routine, mostly in place so they don’t get too crazy while the kids are around.  Arm over the shoulder. Holding hands. Touching thighs. Small kisses. Half an hour passes and they’re reasonably certain that Claire and Jack are asleep and they won’t be disturbed any time soon. Hopefully. 

Dean presses in slowly, aware of the other man’s every breath, as he deepens the kiss. They break away to suck in air only to fall back together almost instantly. Dean is the first to introduce tongue into the mix this time, running the tip of his along Cas’ upper lip and shivering when he feels the answering touch of Cas’. It’s not exactly gentle, but firm and slow. Like they have all the time in the world. Dean loves it, this lazy pacing without a hint of the desperation that sometimes edges their limited experiences.  

He slips his own hand into Cas’ wild hair, tugging carefully, thumb rubbing deliberate circles in the dip of a temple. Dean moans when Cas drops a hand to his chest.  The henley and undershirt not quite enough to dull the light digging of fingertips across his ribs. And then Dean is being squeezed tightly and everything is in motion and suddenly Dean is straddling Cas’ lap on the couch, his hands gripping the man’s shoulders to steady himself. 

“ Is this okay?” Cas’ voice is deeper than usual, rougher, but still so earnest. Always concerned with Dean’s comfort. “ Dean?”

“ Yeah,” Dean gathers his wits and gets a head nod in before a twitch of his hips brings their clothed hard-ons into contact and he loses his sanity for another moment. “ Oh, god, Cas, ” he breathes heavily, foreheads pressed together. Dean tilts his chin to land a few kisses before pulling back enough to make legitimate eye contact. “ I’m so okay with this. Are you?”

Cas bumps his hips up, deliberately grinding their swollen crotches together, the denim just another tantalizing layer of friction.  He grins wickedly up at Dean. “ We have to be quiet. They’re generally heavy sleepers, but I don’t want--”

“ I get it. Believe me, I don’t want that either.” Dean chuckles softly, sliding his hands down Cas’ sweatshirt until he finds the bottom hem and ducks underneath to stroke over smooth heated skin. “ Can we-ah, that’s good- shirts off? “ He catches the split second flash of _something_ on Cas’ face and quickly backtracks. “ Or is that too risky?” 

Cas exhales slowly and shakes his head. “ No. It’s okay.” He shifts slightly in the seat, sitting up, Dean leaning back to give him more room. Blue eyes look up through dark lashes, pleading. “ May I?” He rests his hands on Dean’s hips, fingers playing with the shirt hem. 

Dean gives a grin and nod, relaxing in position as Cas oh so slowly pushes his cool hands beneath Dean’s top layers. It’s a studious exploration, methodical, with Cas carefully rolling the shirts up one cuff at a time to rest on his wrists. The whole thing is beautifully intimate in a way Dean hasn’t experienced in a very long time. 

Cas maintains eye contact as he smooths over Dean’s slight pudge, squeezing lightly and Dean feels like he should be embarrassed about his lack of a well defined six-pack, but the way Cas massages over his soft middle is actually getting Dean off as much as the intense eye-sexing. 

Another careful roll. 

Those clever thumbs are tracing up the line of his hip bones, hands sliding around to frame Dean’s waist below his ribs, completely exposing his belly.  Cas finally looks down and Dean flushes hard at the deep throated moan that escapes Cas’ mouth before he bends down to kiss and nip around Dean’s navel. Oh god, Dean is trying to keep his balance, trying not to grip Cas’ shoulders too hard, trying not to make any embarrassing noises and wake up the kids, but oh god Cas is taking him apart like a boss and they’re not even naked yet!  He’s snapped out of his thoughts by an overwhelming pressure in one spot just above his belly button. Dean looks down just as Cas pulls away from his skin with a wet sucking sound and satisfied grin. Dean’s pretty sure he has a hickey on his belly now, but he doesn’t have time to look because Cas is moving on.

Another careful roll. 

The henley and tee are folded upwards, under his arms, cool air brushing across Dean’s chest and he bites his bottom lip as he feels his nipples tighten. Cas notices, of course, and leans in with an expression that promises nothing but trouble. A soft kiss to each dusky pebble, then a firm flat tongued lick that has Dean digging his fingers into the back of the older man’s shirt. He clamps his mouth shut, not trusting himself to make even the smallest of verbal encouragements without losing his shit. Strong arms circle around his waist, pulling him in tight, giving him no escape from the clever mouth now sucking and biting gently at each nipple in turn. 

Music and dialogue still float quietly from the tv, but not enough to muffle the rustle of fabric, their breathy little noises. 

Cas finally releases him, nipples swollen and spit shiny, only to push the shirts higher and drag his lips across a firm pec to rest softly in the center of Dean’s faded anti-possession tattoo. Since taking the plunge together, they haven’t really had time to explore each other properly, but whenever Cas manages to expose the bold flaming circle and pentagram inked below his collarbone the older man lavishes it with sweet attention. Even without knowing its history (other than Sam having an identical design, inked together right before the younger Winchester left for Stanford), Cas can sense its significance to Dean and treats it accordingly. Just another reason Dean has fallen so hard for this blue eyed angel of a man. 

It is kinda weird that Cas avoids his more frequently accessible arm tattoos, but Dean figures maybe Dory reminds Cas too much of the kids. Libido killer if there ever was one. 

After getting his fill of tonguing over the inked lines, Cas angles his head and firmly plants his nose in the half closed crook of Dean’s left armpit. Dean is fucking trembling. He’s never been ticklish there, not really, but Cas’ breath is stirring the thin hair under his arm, brushing across skin that doesn’t normally see a lot of play and there’s something to it that has every nerve under Dean’s skin lit on fucking fire. Again, trembling. Also, regretting not showering after work, but he hadn’t wanted to be late to his own birthday dinner. 

Cas obliterates any insecurities with a simple, “ Mmmm, you always smell so good.” 

Dean laughs, though it’s a bit strained. “  Manly musk and hand sanitizer?”

“ No hand sanitizer. ” Cas breathes in deeply, then exhales as he nudges deeper. “ Just _you_.” He tilts his head up and Dean could melt right here and now with that mischievous little smile aimed up at him. “ Guess that’s the manly musk.”  Cas goes back to nosing under Dean’s shirt, tongue peeking out to lick over the closest nipple again.

“ Cas?” Dean whispers, voice already hoarse from restraint.

“ Hmm?” Cas murmurs but doesn’t stop nuzzling. In fact he licks along the crease of Dean’s arm and nibbles where it joins the shoulder. 

As much as Dean is enjoying this, he wants to do some exploring of his own. “ Your shirt. Please.”

There’s that hesitation again and Dean decides he won’t push it. He doesn’t mind being the only partially naked person at the moment. But Cas takes a breath, pulling away, hands slipping from Dean’s body to grasp his own hemline and tug the sweatshirt over his head before Dean can protest the sudden action. 

Well, he sorta wanted to do the stripping, but Dean isn’t going to complain now that he has all this beautiful bare skin in front of him. Tit for tat, Dean pulls off his own shirts and drops them on top of Cas’ sweatshirt crumpled on the cushion next to them. The little gasp from Cas turns Dean’s smile into a wicked grin. He playfully bites his lower lip and runs his hands slowly up and down his torso, hooded bedroom eyes turned on full blast. “ Like what you see?” 

Cas’ gaze can’t seem to decide where to look first, blue eyes flicking back and forth, up and down. “ Very much.” 

The absolute seriousness of Cas’ delivery gets a snort from Dean, breaking his sexy facade completely apart. Chuckling quietly, he pets both hands across the nicely toned chest in front of him, thumb tracing a beautifully sculpted collarbone. “ Good. Because I definitely like what I see. “ And he does.  The line of a faded farmer’s tan lingers on Cas’s upper arms and neck, sunkissed contrasting with pale. Strong well defined shoulders that Dean wants to see braced above him sometime very soon. Tiniest hint of softness at his middle that makes Dean feel less self conscious about his own. Thin dark hairs trailing below a cute little navel into the waistband of the worn jeans where there’s a strip of even paler milky white exposed by the low riding denim.

Cas moves in again to begin placing firm, open mouthed kisses at the base of Dean’s throat. The kind that turn Dean to mush and leave small purple blossoms in their wake.

Temporarily denied his view, Dean lets his sense of touch take over, smoothing his palms down the lean sides and back up to curve over those amazing shoulders and-- He pauses as his fingers encounter a slightly raised patch of skin, a line, along the back of Cas’ right shoulder. The scars. Dean had almost forgotten them since it became long sleeve weather; the long thin white lines scratching their way from the older man’s elbow and disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirts.  Dean had no idea they extended so far up and still can’t imagine what would have caused the original injury. 

Dean plays over it gently, feeling out its width and length and texture. It’s about the thickness of his thumb, thicker than the lines further down, quite possibly the origin point. Tiny imperfections, indentations in the flesh, speak of ragged wounds and stitches. Crossing the back of Cas’ shoulder, there are numerous lines branching off down his back, down the length of his arm. 

Dean turns his head to the side, leaning forward to get a better look at the faded damage beneath his fingers. 

“ Don’t.” Cas’ voice is a grating whisper, his entire body tense in Dean’s arms. 

Dean freezes. His first instinct is to pull away, prevent himself from fucking it up worse. But that’s his insecurities talking, so Dean swallows that impulse down and goes with his next urge. He slowly flattens his hand against the warm skin, covering the thin lines sprawled across the back of Cas’ upper arm, and ducks his head to rest his lips against the shell of Cas’ ear. “ Sorry,” Dean breathes. 

Cas shakes his head in the embrace, face still hidden. “ No, no, it’s not…” He takes in an unsteady breath, releasing it hot and moist against Dean’s throat. “ It’s okay.” 

Dean doubts that, but attempts some Sam-level comfort. “ You wanna talk about it?” 

Another head shake. “ Not right now, no.” Cas pulls back just enough to look up at Dean through his lashes, his fingers twitch nervously on Dean’s back, now warm from prolonged contact with Dean’s overheated body. “ Right now, I don’t want to think about anything but you.” 

Dean can so fucking relate to that. He pulls both hands up to frame Cas’ face, tilting it up to meet his own in a deep, brain halting kiss. When they break for air, Dean sucks gently on Cas’ lower lip between exhales. The heat is building again in his gut, between his legs. Dean can feel his chubby turning into a full fledged hard-on, rubbing against the soft satiny--  

At that exact moment, Cas drops a hand to cup the thick length outlined under Dean’s jeans, and squeezes firmly.  “Fuck.” Dean lurches back on Cas’ lap, face twisted in frustration, a hefty dose of self-directed irritation. He hopes the edge of fear is thoroughly hidden by his scowl.  

He completely forgot! How the _fuck_ could he _forget_?! 

Cas jerks his hand back, face stricken, words spilling out rapidfire. “ Dean?  _I’msorryIshouldhaveaskedI’m_ \--”

“ Nope, nope.” Dean leans back in and surrounds Cas, both arms hugging him against his chest, mouth buried in his rumpled hair. “ Not you, Cas. Didn’t do nothing wrong, you hear me? “ He is fucking this up royally. With the scars, and now his stupid kink. And that fear of being laughed at, of being judged, thought of as disgusting? Dean knows that’s not going to happen with Cas, but still...  “ I’m the one that screwed up. Maybe.” 

Cas nods against Dean’s cheek and slips his hands over the back of his shoulders, participating in the hug. There’s a breath, then Cas pulls back to look up into Dean’s face. “ Why do you think you screwed up?” His expression is so open, so painfully concerned. 

Dean inhales, slow and deep. Breathes it out the same as he eases back, hands trailing along Cas’ arms until they fall from his shoulders and their fingers are intertwined, resting on Dean’s thighs. Okay. This is happening and he can do this and this will be fine. It’s fine. “ So, it’s my birthday.”

Cas’ expression doesn’t change. “ Yes.” 

“ The Big Four-Oh.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And I honestly thought it’d be dinner and just some over-the-clothes action tonight.”

“ Okay.”

“ So I… ” Dean stumbles, then sets his jaw, holding Cas’ curious gaze. “ I’m wearing panties.” 

Cas blinks. Twice. “ You’re wearing panties.”  His tone is flat. Neutral. Unreadable.

“ Yeah, uhm. I’m wearing panties.” Dean’s voice, however, is quieter as he continues. And his gaze nervously flickers away, out the window, then down where he stares at their joined hands.  Might as well put it all out there. “ I like wearing ‘em sometimes. They feel good and they make me feel, uhm, sexy and, uh, you know, confident and I--I got a new pair for myself after Christmas and I’ve been saving them for today because… it’s my birthday. ” He shrugs. And waits for Cas’ response. If he likes the idea, then they can continue getting handsy. If Cas isn’t into it, well, Dean can go commando and then they’ll carry on. It’ll be fine, either way.  

Cas swallows audibly and whispers, “ Stay the night.” 

 

**_tbc…_ **


	23. Blush Pink and Reflector Vest Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A variety of underwear. A rating upgrade. And an innocently cracky bonus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Called out sick today because I was sick, but also because I needed to finish this between my drugged naps. Reminder/clarification: Jack is four months away from being three-years-old. Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments!!!

**Chapter 23:  Blush Pink and Reflector Vest Orange**

 

**Still January 24th 2019**

 

Dean’s head whips up, re-establishing eye contact. “ What?” He’d been so far in his head and worries the question takes him completely by surprise. 

“ Stay the night.”  Cas disentagles their fingers and smooths his palms along the planes of Dean’s chest, the softness of his belly. Back up to tenderly cradle Dean’s face.  Intense blue gaze never wavering from green. “ I want you so goddamn much, Dean. Wanted you for so long and we tried to take it slow and be sensible with our schedules but I don’t give a shit about sensible anymore and you’re _here_ and you’re _wearing panties_ and there is _nothing_ I want more in this moment than to lay you out on my bed and touch every beautiful inch of you until you completely fall apart under me.” 

Dean is already falling apart. He’s fucking shaking at Cas’ husky voice, his confident tone, his intimate description. The last flicker of fear is torched by lust and affection flaring through his body, lighting him up like a damn candle. Dean has an immediate image of the pink sparkling candle from his tart and he chokes on a giggle. 

Cas looks confused, but a smile is curving the corners of his mouth. Crinkling around his eyes. “ Not the response I expected, but I’m glad I haven’t upset you.”

“ Exact opposite.” Dean assures the older man, still grinning. Breathing easier, he turns his head and kisses the palm cupping his left cheek, then his right. Then Dean covers the broad hands with his own and lowers them down his body, fingertips barely brushing his skin, until they’re resting at his waist band. He moves Cas’ right hand to the top button of his jeans and gives him a small encouraging nod. “ I’ll stay.” 

In reply, Cas tilts his face up and leans in for a long, slow kiss, his hands never leaving their places at Dean’s waist. Dean lets his own hands drop away, curls them loosely around Cas’ elbows, just wanting the extra little points of physical contact to steady himself.

The button is undone. And the next. And the next. Dean gasps quietly each time, Cas’ thick fingers grazing his sensitive belly. 

And then Cas ends the kiss to look down and immediately groans, throaty and utterly wrecked. “ _Pink_.”

Dean bucks up, involuntarily, at the light touch to his cock. Just a single point of pressure slowly massaging small circles over the raised line of silky material. “ I like pink, but-oh god, right there!- I, uh, I have other colors, too.” 

“ Fuck. One thing at a time Dean.” Cas practically growls, his hips also bucking under Dean’s weight. “ There’s not enough blood flow to properly process the fantasies that just wiped out all my higher brain functions at that new piece of information.” 

The movement presses Cas’ hard-on against Dean and his own thoughts narrow down to the single need to touch.  “ Wanna see, Cas. Wanna feel you, please?” 

It’s clumsy, but between them they manage to get their jeans below their crotches, tight around their thighs. Underwear remains untouched if only because Dean is now as entranced by his partner’s boxer briefs as Cas is of his panties. Though for an entirely different reason. Dean glances up questioningly. “ Not that I’m one to talk, but... reflector vest orange?” 

Castiel looks Dean dead in the eye, expression flat. “ I enjoy safe sex.”

A beat, then Dean is snorting with laughter, curled around Cas’ body as he shakes with unbridled glee. This. This is what he’s missed in recent years with his infrequent random hook-ups. This easy intimacy, comforting touches and unguarded laughter. Cas’ big hands smooth over his hips, bringing Dean’s attention back to the task at hand. One more breath, stuttering softly through one last chuckle. He gently butts his forehead against the other man’s and plants a grinning kiss on his cheek. “ Okay, Mr. Standup. Stop distracting me.” 

“ You needed some distraction,” Cas replies simply. He shrugs, sliding his palms down, thumbs resting over the gentle curve of his belly above the panties. “ I needed some distraction. You’re a distraction.”

“ Stop saying distraction.” 

“ Stop being distracting. Oh, shit.” 

Dean grins down at the man, his hands busy fishing stiff flesh through the slit in the bright orange briefs. And there’s another surprising discovery when he combs his fingers through the wild bush of hair at the root.  “ Crap. How are your pubes so soft?” Dean is genuinely impressed, practically forgetting the hard cock nearby in favor of petting the silky hair. He does some occasional manscaping, sure, keeping things neatly trimmed, but the hair is still pretty coarse. 

“ Conditioner.” Cas shrugs, then groans as Dean carefully tugs at the curly hairs. Cas give a small thrust, dragging his length along the side of Dean’s hand. 

“ Hm.” Dean makes a thoughtful noise, makes a mental note to try that in his next shower, then rotates his wrist to wrap his fingers around Cas’ shaft outside the underwear. He quickly devolves into a slack jawed groan as Cas gently maneuvers the pink waistband down to catch snug under Dean’s balls. 

There’s plenty of light from the side table lamp, spilling between them and giving a clear view of their bared laps. Dean takes a moment just to look, and a glance at Cas’ wide eyes assures him the other man is doing the same. Cocks are cocks are cocks, as far as Dean is concerned. But he does enjoy the little differences that make them unique to their owners. Like, Cas is uncircumcised, ruddy foreskin surrounding the glistening pink head that’s just peeking out. Dean’s own dick is cut, the head flared a bit more prominently, thickly veined, hard flesh darkly flushed as it curves gently upward. Cas’ shaft is also blood darkened, but finely veined, jutting straight from his groin. It’s also visibly girthier than Dean’s, an observation that has Dean’s mouth watering instantly. 

A tiny movement of Dean’s hips and their lengths brush together and Dean is back to trembling. Hot satiny flesh sliding smoothly between them, damp heads bumping into bellies as they both rock and thrust tentatively, testing the limits of their positions. Dean takes a deep breath, curves a hand over the couch back, locks his elbow, and wraps his opposite hand around Cas’ solid length. He has to take another deep inhale at the touch; velvety skin and stiff flesh against his palm, hot and heavy in his grasp. Musk and Irish Spring filling his nostrils. Dean breathes it in and bumps his forehead against Cas’ temple. 

Cas is panting beneath him, quick little breaths in and out of his parted lips. Dean tilts his head to place a kiss on those dry lips. “ This okay?” He gives the cock in his hand one long slow stroke up, then back down. 

Cas moans, his head falling back onto the couch, eyes fluttering closed. “ Yessss, oh God.” He bucks up into Dean’s hold, another soft groan spilling from his mouth. 

Dean watches, fascinated, as the expressions pass over Cas’ face as he slowly jacks him off.  Normally, Cas’ emotions are displayed in small ways. Tiny twitches of his fingers and crinkling around his eyes and quirk of his lips. Subtle. But here, giving himself over to the pleasure Dean is happily giving, the older man’s face is a blatant display of desire, of pleasure. Cas squeezes his eyes shut and flings them wide open again to stare into Dean’s with naked want. Cas grips Dean’s shoulders hard enough to leave bruises and then ghosts a single finger down the bridge of Dean’s nose. Cas’ body tenses on each upstroke and melts on the descent. 

It’s a few minutes before Dean is reminded of his own neglected hard on when he bumps it with his wrist trying to get a better angle. He hisses through his teeth and thrusts forward to get a glancing blow against Cas’ underwear. It’s not enough. “ Cas? Cas, touch me.”

“ I’m s-sorry, Dean. Yes,” Cas gains a moment of clarity amidst the heated chaos and looks down, slipping his hand under the pink waistband and firmly grasping Dean’s cock. His thumb presses just beneath the glans sticking out.

Dean loses his breath for a split second at the sudden cool skin surrounding such a sensitive body part. Then he pushes up into the fist and Cas adjusts his grip and Dean stares down at the hands on cocks working between them, enjoying the color contrasts and shiny precum streaking their skin. Their rhythm quickly syncs up and Dean leans back in to kiss over Cas’ stubble rough cheeks as they both chase their respective orgasms. 

The heating kicks back on. The television program ends and another begins. Cas dumps a squirt of high-end unscented lotion into the mix. Their breaths grow more ragged between exchanged endearments and curses. 

Dean has no real sense of how much time has passed when he is jolted out of his own orgasmic chase by a sudden tightening around his cock. Cas squeezes his dick once, a tad too hard, then releases it to put both hands on Dean’s thighs. Not driving the action, not moving Dean, simply holding on as his thrusts become more erractic. Dean doesn’t mind delaying his own orgasm because watching Cas get off is going to be nearly as satisfying.  The older man bucks up into Dean’s lotion slick fist, frantic, and Dean does his best to keep up the strong steady rhythm that is obviously Cas’ ticket to bliss. 

And there it is. Cas yanks Dean to him, hands dragging around to his back, fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder blades as his hips stutter and stall and his entire frame draws up tight. A long drawn out moment, a nearly pained moan, then Cas slumps back onto the couch, pulling Dean with him. 

The cum is already cooling on his fist, but Dean continues to stroke slowly through the mess, wringing out the last bits of pleasure from Cas’ orgasm. Christ, the man is beautiful. Sexy as hell. Dean attempts to shift, careful of his own greasy hard on straining against tight fabric, and noses at Cas’ cheek before placing a soft kiss on the stubble. Cas gives a tiny whimper and a weak thrust of his hips. Dean grins. “ Doin’ good?” 

Cas turns his head toward Dean, blindly searching out his mouth. Dean takes pity on him and aligns their mouths together for a kiss, slow and deep. Sated. At least on Cas’ part. Dean does his best to keep his own enthusiasm reigned in. This is about Cas right now and he can take care of himself in a few minutes or even wait til he gets home tomorrow if need be.

The lovely member in his hand has fully softened and Dean carefully removes his touch from sensitive flesh. A little gasp falls from Cas’  lips, sending spikes of heat to Dean’s groin. He untangles his t-shirt from the jumble of clothes on the couch, but Cas spots him and stretches for the plastic box of baby wipes on the window sill behind the couch. 

“ These work better.” Cas whispers, breathing still a bit fast. Blue eyes hazy. 

“ Someone was a boy scout.” Dean accepts the box and pulls a couple damp cloths from the top. It’s an easy clean-up, though Dean takes his time after cleaning up his own hand and stomach to gently wipe away the drying fluids from Cas’ skin. There’s not much to be done with their respective underwear until he does laundry. When Dean finishes he twists to drop the soiled wipes into the trashcan under the nearest sidetable and nearly falls over as a hand closes around his aching cock. He jerks his head back around to find Cas staring up lustily, broad cool hands lazily moving over his erection. 

“ D-da...daddy?” Claire’s tearful voice interrupts the heated quiet. 

Dean’s focus snaps to the baby monitor on the coffee table. Cas is already swearing under his breath, flinching as he bodily rolls Dean off his lap and sets him on the next couch cushion. 

“ Daddy, please… I h-had a-- had a bad dream...” 

Cas snatches up the monitor and presses the speaker button. “ I’m right here, Claire-Bear. I’m coming, promise. You’re safe, sweetheart.” Cas flinches and fumbles when he stands. He drops the monitor onto the couch, grabbing his sweatshirt, and heads toward the hallway. He’s just got his head and one arm through the right holes in his shirt when he turns on a fucking dime and nails Dean with a determined look edged with fear. “ Don’t go. Please.” 

Dean watches from the couch, pants undone, cock swollen under lacy pink microfiber - though it is quickly deflating under the stress of the moment- both stunned and impressed by the quick turnaround of events. With an amused smile on his face, he bobs his head once. “ I’ll be here.” 

Cas looks like he wants to say something else, but Claire’s small voice comes through the speaker again and he bolts out of the room. 

Dean buttons up, flinching even worse than Cas, pulls on his t-shirt and forces himself to get up and head into the kitchen to get a drink. To collect himself. He had really thought about going, just as Cas suspected. Not as a tantrum or anything. Cas has his hands full and the last thing Dean wants is to be in the way. Parenting is hard enough as it is and Cas doesn’t need to worry about him hanging out in the living room waiting on him. Dean had planned on a quiet , “ _Don’t worry, text me later,_ ” and a quieter exit, had still thought it the best plan of action when Cas asked him to stay, again. But Dean hadn’t been able to deny that spark of uncertainty in Cas’ eyes, the near desperate edge to that ” _Please._ ” 

The kitchen is lit only by the light filtering in from the living room and the over-stove bulb. Dean finds his cup from earlier in the dish drainer and pours a glug of cold water from the fridge. He downs it in one swallow and stands aimlessly in the center of the open space, staring at his reflection in the darkened microwave. He looks stupidly happy, which is weird as fuck, really.  Dean shakes his head and washes his cup, again placing it in the drainer near the sink, before heading back to the couch. 

The monitor is still on its one-way function and Dean can clearly hear Cas’ soft rumbling voice comforting Claire’s squeaky sniffling. 

” I hate dreaming ‘bout the bad man.”’ 

“  I know, sweetheart. But I’m right here, and Mr. Cain is just a phone call away and Dean is still here, in the den. We won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.” 

“ Can I see Dean?”

” Well, sweetie, he’s uh...”

Dean is already on his way to the bedroom, stifling a chuckle and embracing the swell of warmth in his chest even as he fishes around in his back pocket for the little white tile he’d forgotten about having.  The kids’ bedroom door is open, faint light spilling inside to give Dean a clear view of Cas kneeling at the side of Claire’s bed, the little girl’s arms wrapped around his neck. “ Hey, little lady,” he calls softly, stepping inside. “ My ears are burning. You been talking ‘bout me?” A glance at Jack’s railed bed shows the toddler still fast asleep.

A disheveled little face appears over Cas’ shoulder, red eyes wide in surprise. “ You’re here!”

“ Sure am.” Dean grins and settles beside Cas on the floor, facing the head of the bed and the little girl who is now leaning into his space. He props an elbow on the mattress and brushes her long hair behind her ear. “ But sometimes I’m not here. I’m at work or in the garage or outside or I play really loud music--”

“ I like your loud music.”

“ I know you do, darlin’. But when I’m not here you can still get in touch with me. With this.” Dean raises the little tile for Claire to see. “  Whenever you need me you can push this button two times and it makes my phone ring and I’ll come right over, okay?” He catches the little parental frown on Cas’ face and smothers a grin before placing the limitations he understands Cas wants on this new piece of technology. “ But, this is for bedtime emergencies only, okay. Or when your Daddy forgets to charge his phone.” Dean tosses a wicked grin at the other man.

The frown turns into an exasperated eye roll. “ That happened _one_ time.” 

“ Otherwise, just ask your Dad to give me a call, alright?” Dean leans around Cas and places the Tile on the window sill. “ We’ll leave it right there, where you can reach it.” When he settles back on his heels he finds two varying expressions of gratitude from the Novaks: Claire’s open and practically awed, Cas’ softer and accompanied by the sweetest smile Dean’s ever seen. He doesn’t have long to appreciate it because Claire’s wild hair is suddenly filling his vision, her little arms nearly strangling him around the neck as she hugs him. 

“ Thank you, Dean,” she whispers in his ear, ever mindful of her sleeping brother. 

“ Anytime, darlin’.” Dean huffs out in a small laugh. He waits until Claire disengages on her own and watches as Cas is given the same treatment before the older man eases Claire back under the covers with a kiss to the forehead. “ Goodnight, Claire. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Claire’s voice is already getting weaker, sleep pulling her under quickly. “ ‘Night, Dean.” 

“ I’ll be in the den.” Dean grunts softly as he rises to his feet, brushing his hand across Cas’ shoulder as he whispers his destination. Cas reaches up and touches his hand briefly before turning back to Claire, singing quietly off key. 

Dean slips out and heads back to the couch, sinking into the corner with a contented sigh. He feels like he does at the end of a day when’s he managed to soothe every terrified and cranky patient that’s thrown his way. When he avoids vomit and exploding diapers. Dean feels victorious, triumphant. Amazing even. But mostly he feels so fucking warm and gooey inside. So much so, that he closes his eyes and drifts off…

 

**XOXOXOX**

 

” You can’t sing, Daddy.” Claire’s little voice is sleep heavy, but exasperated. 

” I know. It’s so bad it chases away all the nightmares.” Castiel smiles, his singing falling into a quiet hum, his hand still petting the blonde head. 

Another few moments and Castiel hears the telltale sound of Claire’s breathing evening out into sleep. He lingers, just a minute longer, enjoying the soothing motions and soft sounds. It helps smooth over his frayed nerves, from the nightmare fright and the thought of Dean leaving. Which is a bit excessive, when Castiel thinks about it. It wasn’t just about wanting to see more of those remarkable panties. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to disappoint Dean, again, having their plans thwarted. Or even about not having a proper goodbye if Dean decided to leave. 

He didn’t want Dean to leave at all. 

It had scared Castiel, that strong wave of desperate fear at the thought of walking back into his living room to find it empty. He’s still nervous about it, despite his trust in Dean. And Dean… Dean had made Claire’s night, her week, with the gadget that Castiel knows isn’t cheap and is definitely not a toy. But it had brought such comfort to Claire that Castiel didn’t have the heart to deny the gift. 

Claire sighs softly, snuggling deeper into her pillow, and Castiel takes his hand away. He struggles to stand without grunting- much like Dean- and wonders briefly when he’d gotten old. Another pause, a few steps to the opposite wall to check on Jack. The toddler is deep asleep, completely undisturbed by recent events. Castiel is about to resist the urge to pet the boy’s head, but thinks better of it and leans down to place a kiss on Jack’s sleep warm cheek. Jack snorts softly and turns his head.  Well, Castiel can take a hint. 

He’s grinning when he leaves the bedroom, pulling the door closed with just a crack. The nerves attempt to return as he strides down the hallway, through the living room and back into the den. But Dean is still there. 

In fact, Dean is asleep on the couch, head tilted back against the cushion, snoring softly. 

Castiel pauses in the doorway, just watching. He has the same blooming warmth in his chest that he feels whenever he watches Claire and Jack sleeping. The same sense of affection and fierce protectiveness. Except, when the children are asleep, Castiel is happy to leave them to their dreams. But with Dean, he wants nothing more than to kiss the man awake. 

So Castiel partially gives in to his impulse, crosses the room and carefully sits beside Dean, slipping his hand over the one Dean has resting on his thigh. “ Dean?” 

Before the name leaves his mouth, Dean is already stirring at the light touch to his fingers, which he curls around Castiel’s hand before blinking against the light. “ All good?” 

“ All good, “ Castiel replies, returning the slow smile spreading across the younger man’s face. “ Are you tired?” He’ll be a bit disappointed if the answer is yes, but Castiel is happy to get Dean into his bed anyway that he can. 

“ No, no.” Dean is quick to sit up, shaking his head in denial. “ Just really comfortable.”  He squeezes Castiel’s hand and lifts it to his mouth, pressing a firm smacking kiss on his knuckles. “ And your singing was practically hypnotizing.” 

“ I’m sure.” Castiel chuckles softly, then he sighs, knowing he needs to--

“ And before you say anything, I split a four-pack of those _Tiles_ with Sam because they were on sale. And I was bringing one over for your keys since Jack likes borrowing them.” Dean drops their joined hands to his chest and presses it there, steadying them both. “ I’ll get you another one for a super early birthday present, okay?” 

How can Castiel argue with those puppy dog eyes? “ Thank you.” He nods absently, silly grin on his face, just staring. It’s hard not to stare; Dean is too perfect, even his little imperfections. And there is a much better place for him to catalog both. Castiel rises to his feet,  tugging Dean up with him. Their bodies are nearly touching and he leans in just to breathe softly against Dean’s ear, “ Now, come to bed.” Quiet, firm. 

Dean shivers, visibly, at his tone. Castiel files that image away for later, along with the knowledge that Dean seems to like Castiel’s more _forceful_ demeanor. Dear God, he can’t wait to get this incredible man stretched out bare on his sheets. 

Stepping backwards, Castiel turns and leads them to his bedroom, stopping to check in on the children once more. All is well, Claire asleep once again and Jack now wedged between a small plush duck and a stuffed cow. An oversized peanut shaped car sponge, a gift from Gabriel and Jack’s favorite lovey, is wrapped tightly in both his little arms. Castiel catches Dean’s gentle smile at the sight and that’s enough to get his blood racing again. This man, who loves these children like his own in such a short amount of time…  Since meeting Dean, Castiel has better understood the appeal of the single-mother-meets-cowboy-with-a-heart-of-gold paperbacks Becky mainlines between her bodice rippers. There is something incredibly sexy about parental attributes. 

Inside the safety of his bedroom, Castiel debates whether or not to lock the door. He doubts there will be any more disturbances, at least not until Jack most likely wakes up in a few hours. But he also doesn’t think he’ll be cognizant enough to remember to unlock it after he and Dean are finished… doing whatever they choose to do tonight. He shuts it, without locking; a perfectly acceptable compromise. 

When he turns around, Dean is watching him, gaze following his every move. Dark and hungry.  Castiel wishes he was twenty years younger because his own arousal is trying desperately to wake up his softened cock. An exercise in futility, but Castiel appreciates the effort. Instead of raging lust, he is overcome by the need to reciprocate; to give Dean as much pleasure and satisfaction as he gave Castiel earlier. More, if possible. 

With that in mind, Castiel  moves forward in carefully measured steps, pressing Dean back until the man’s calves hit the side of the bed.  Dean drops immediately, sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking up at Castiel with those gorgeous lust laden eyes. 

Not just lust, though. Even now, in the glow of the twin bedside lamps, Castiel can see something softer blunting the desperate edge of animal need. Can see the tiny hint of nervousness flickering across his expression between the desire and affection. He cups Dean’s face in his hands, tilting his plush lips up to press a soft, barely there kiss to the receptive mouth. 

It’s perfectly lovely, but Castiel wants more. Or at least to get them back to where they were pre-nightmare. He straddles Dean’s lap, legs folding on the mattress on either side of the younger man’s thighs, and places Dean’s hands on the bottom hem of his sweatshirt. A questioning look, a small nod of approval. In his fearful haste, Castiel had deprived Dean of undressing him earlier, but he intends on making up for that now. He leans back just enough to give Dean room to slowly slide the thick material up his torso, assisting with the process by holding the folds up as Dean tenderly explores his newly bared skin. 

Once Dean reaches the middle of Castiel’s chest, licking over the sparse hair, his patience seems to run out. He pulls the sweatshirt over Castiel’s head and tugs his arms out of the sleeves. It’s barely left his fingers before Castiel snaps his hands forward and relieves Dean of his undershirt in a similarly efficient manner. The clothing is discarded on the floor and all four hands busy themselves stroking warm skin.

Then Castiel is nudging Dean back, forcing the younger man to clumsily scoot backward along the bed as Castiel crawls over him, maintaining fierce eye contact the entire time. Dean’s head hits the pillow and Castiel pauses, hovering. There are so many things he wants to do right now, it’s nearly overwhelming. He takes a small breath, watches how Dean’s eyes are trained on his lips. Sliver of green circling blown pupils shadowed by the longest lashes. Castiel shifts more of his weight to his knees and one arm, lifting his free hand to lightly trace the lines of Dean’s face, over his throat (Adam’s apple bobbing and Castiel vows to suck a mark there before the night is over), collarbones, pentagram tattoo (a gentle kiss over the darkening mark he left earlier). 

He takes extra time over Dean’s perky nipples simply to revel in the younger man’s little gasps and sighs as he carefully rolls and tweaks the small nubs between his fingers. They’re red and swollen by the time he moves lower and finds a ticklish spot low on Dean’s belly, judging by his sudden giggles. Castiel exploits the weakness, fingertips skittering, but takes pity on Dean after only a few seconds when he almost knees Castiel in the chest during his involuntary jerking. 

“ Ass.” Dean name calls, arm thrown over his flushed face, chest heaving. 

“ I’m getting to it.” Castiel smirks and Dean uncovers his face to grin back. Castiel slings a leg over Dean’s body and shuffles down, propping himself on elbows to get a good view of the denim covered crotch below his chin. “ But first…”

Castiel can hear when Dean’s breath catches in his throat, the exact moment he finishes unbuttoning the fly and blows hot air over the panel of pink lace exposed in the open vee. The thick flesh underneath twitches and Castiel catches his own breath at the sight. Dean’s cock is clearly outlined under the thin fabric, a hard line running diagonally toward the right hip. The lace has an intricate floral design in a tight pattern; barest hints of skin showing through the tiny holes. And Dean is already about to come out of them, the head of his cock creating a gap at the waistband. 

Castiel needs to see more. Now. 

With the softest kiss he’s ever bestowed upon an adult’s belly button, Castiel carefully works the denim down Dean’s hips, slips his hands along the back to hook his fingers into the waistband and slide the jeans down along the luscious curve of ass. He keeps going until the denim is tight around Dean’s thighs, just below his satin covered sac. 

A wide band of blush pink lace. Shiny matching pink fabric below. Both incredibly soft to the touch and Castiel guesses microfiber because Meg had similar ones years ago and Dean hasn’t cautioned him to be careful with them as he surely would if they were authentic- and expensive- silk.  It’s a modest cut, though Castiel isn’t familiar with its official designation. Briefs? Hipsters? The waistband sits a couple inches below Dean’s navel, thin dark hair diving under the lace. The leg openings are not too high or tight, easily following the joinings of the pale thighs. Castiel runs his thumb up along the edge of one, then pushes the tip under the seam on the way back down.  The skin beneath is sinfully silky. He glances up at Dean, wanting to check on the younger man who has been uncharacteristically quiet. 

Dean is staring back, head lifted from the pillow to better watch Castiel. This is not a flattering angle for anyone, but the hint of double chin squeezed against Dean’s chest is simply endearing.  Short, panting breaths spill from his parted lips. His hands are loosely curled at his sides, blunt nails occasionally scratching against the smooth cotton comforter. His legs are shaking slightly where they rest against Castiel’s shoulders. Is Dean still so nervous about this? Castiel leans back onto his heels, smooths his hands along Dean’s outer thighs and catches him behind the knees, pushing them toward his chest and stripping the jeans off in one relatively smooth motion. They do get snagged on one foot, but Castiel gently maneuvers the denim over the ankle and toes until Dean is free of them.  

Castiel wants to look his fill, wants to bury his face against that enticing musky triangle of soft fabric and hard flesh. But he feels he’s needed elsewhere and stretches his body out until he has Dean’s mouth under his. Castiel carefully lowers himself, allowing more of his weight to rest on Dean without grinding down into him.  As he thought, the steady pressure seems to settle the younger man, breathing evening out into the kiss as Dean brings his arms up to wrap around Castiel’s shoulders. 

It’s nice and easy again. Just kissing slow and deep. Gentle touches to Dean’s neck, curving a hand behind his shoulder and Castiel doesn’t think about the fact that he’s touching his own inked handprint there. He focuses on Dean’s body relaxing under him and instead thinks about things that may have been said to Dean in the past when this particular kink was discovered.  Dean has always been so confident during their brief sexual encounters, had been just as bold and unafraid tonight, before remembering the panties. Of course, people can be thoughtless, sometimes deliberately cruel. Castiel quickly decides it’s up to him to make Dean forget all about those imbeciles who had no idea how to treat a walking miracle like Dean Winchester. 

He moves his kisses along the sharp jawline, speaking the words into Dean’s skin. “ You are so _beautiful_.” 

“ Should look in a mirr-ro-ror y-yourself.” Dean stutters when Castiel begins sucking on his Adam’s apple. 

Castiel ignores the joke, lifting his body enough to skim his hand down Dean’s front until he reaches that glorious juncture between his legs. He cups the cock under lace, fingers gently rubbing over the balls below.  “ These are beautiful on you.” Beautiful because Dean is wearing them, not the other way around. On their own, the panties would certainly be pretty to look at, but nothing more. But on Dean… Castiel would like to expound more on why Dean shouldn’t be ashamed, shouldn’t be nervous. And one day soon, he will. He will pin Dean to this bed and whisper loving compliments and dirty little sweet nothings into Dean’s skin until he utterly destroys that last bit of ingrained masculine shame. 

But for now, Castiel won’t push those possibly triggering buttons. Because Dean is taking the situation into his own hands, fingers blindly groping for the button at the front of Castiel’s jeans. “ Lose the pants?” 

Complying swiftly, after a smile and kiss, Castiel leans back onto his heels again. He undoes his top button. Dean follows, sitting up and bringing his other hand to Castiel’s zipper. Castiel stares at Dean’s bent head as he slowly pulls the zip down, metal teeth disconnecting with a low buzz. It doesn’t take long to divest himself of his jeans and boxer briefs, though there is some awkward shuffling and he almost falls over trying to get his last foot out of the leg hole. But soon enough, he’s left in nothing but a smile. Dean smiles back and Castiel lowers them both back down to the comforter and pillows.  

More shuffling and shifting until Castiel insinuates himself between Dean’s bowed thighs, face nuzzling contentedly over the satiny fabric. He mouths along the stiff ridge of flesh under the lace, moving slowly toward the tip that’s leaking profusely on Dean’s hip, the wet spot spreading with every twitch.   Once he reaches his destination, Castiel sucks gently, pulling the lace and spongy head between his covered teeth, teasing the slit through the thin material with his tongue. 

“ Oh, sh-shit.” Dean gasps above him, a hand flying to bury itself in Castiel’s hair. “ Please, Cas, 

Castiel hums around his mouthful, then slowly pulls off to leave a line of small kisses back down the panties until he can suck in the pliant sac, one firm orb at a time. Dean squirms under him, spreading his legs further apart and tilting his hips up into Castiel’s touch. 

Once the fabric is thoroughly soaked with his saliva and Dean is panting hard and fast, Castiel decides to move on. He carefully slides the panties down, tucking them under Dean’s sensitive balls. Castiel had gotten a few glimpses of Dean’s lovely cock earlier, before things became too intense, but he appreciates this chance for a closer inspection. The satiny head with a prominent flare, traceable veins along the shaft, a neatly trimmed patch of coarse hair at its base. Castiel gently fondles the pliant sac. Dean rewards him with a small moan and firm touch to the back of his hand, encouraging more contact. Castiel happily complies by curling his tongue underneath and rolling a firm orb into his mouth. It’s even better without the fabric barrier; contrasting textures of hair and skin, taste of salt and hint of soap. Dean curses under his breath, his hands flexing on Castiel’s shoulders. His cock swells even more, right in front of Castiel’s face, filling out completely and bobbing slowly over his navel. Castiel watches it- and Dean’s face- as he gives the same fond treatment to the other testicle. 

He breathes in the body heated scents that are familiar but much more potent in this small area of flesh; the clean musk of a warm body and a citrusy soap that isn’t overly sweet, and remnants of the earlier lotion. Castiel’s mouth waters at the heady fragrance and he lets the soft flesh drop from his mouth to place his tongue at the base of Dean’s cock and lick a long slow stripe up the underside, needing a taste. 

“ So good, Cas. Christ.” Dean is murmuring softly as his hips rock in tiny motions, his cock sliding carefully against Castiel’s parted lips and tongue. “ But… but you know I’m good with a handjob. You don’t have to--Oh Christ!”

Castiel stops Dean’s nonsense by slipping his mouth over the head of his cock and pushing down until his nose is touching the coarse dark hairs. Yes, Castiel knows he doesn’t have to give Dean oral sex on their first time around. But Castiel is very proud of his oral skills, despite being a bit rusty, and is happy to put them to good use again. 

He starts slow, long even strokes up and down, pushing the tip of his tongue firmly along the underside of Dean’s cock. He hollows his cheeks on every other upstroke, Dean’s breathy praises filling the quiet. Castiel folds his hands over the narrow hips, fingers splaying over the muscled thighs. The mark he placed on Dean’s belly earlier is already blood dark against the faded tan skin, an even more extreme contrast to the pale flesh lower down, hidden from the sun all season long. The sight pushes a moan around Castiel’s mouthful and Dean responds with a tightening of his fists on Castiel’s shoulders and a hoarse warning cry of his name.

 Castiel hangs on, even more determined, and keeps Dean’s cock nestled snugly in the back of his throat as he hums low and deep. He pulls back only enough to grab a breath through his nose then is right back at it, gently dragging lovely moans and blissful expressions from the younger man. Castiel has taken only three measured breaths when Dean’s legs lock up around him. Fingertips dig painfully into his wrist, the other hand fists in the comforter near his elbow. 

A rush of bitter wet heat down his throat. A hard body arching off the bed. Rough gasping breaths.

Castiel looks up to see Dean’s mouth open in a silent scream, eyes squeezed shut, before he slumps boneless onto the bed. 

Castiel eases away, letting the softening flesh slip from his mouth with a satisfying _plop_ onto the crease of Dean’s thigh. Dean is still panting heavily, groaning and jerking with the aftershocks when Castiel climbs up his loose limbed body  and noses against his bare neck. Dean’s hands immediately slide into Castiel’s messy hair and he licks into his mouth with surprising enthusiasm. Warm and firm. Sweet and filthy.  It’s easy for Castiel to relax into the hold, letting Dean take what he needs from him in his hazy afterglow. He hums roughly in the back of his throat and rests his cheek on the pillow next to Dean’s, gazing happily into the intense green eyes watching him. “ You really are beautiful.” 

“ Shut up.” Dean grouses, pushing at the older man’s shoulder.  

But Castiel can see the blush again rising in the high cheekbones, notices the embarrassed quirk of those full lips. He sits up, stretching slowly to ease the kinks in his back and shoulders. Dean’s gaze remains steady as he wiggles out of the damp panties, holding them awkwardly until Castiel takes them and tosses them, along with his own boxers, into the hamper in the corner. Another baby wipe because he’s come to love the convenience of them and keeps a pack in practically every room now. 

It’s quiet, comfortably so. Soft and easy. Castiel gently wipes away the quickly drying fluid, bending down to place small kisses on the clean skin. The wipe goes into the trash and Castiel grudgingly rolls out of bed to find clean clothing for them both. “ I can’t guarantee we’ll wake up alone.” He hands a pair of soft cotton pajama pants to Dean and pulls on a pair of flannel ones himself; both varying shades of gray.  He hesitates over his t-shirt drawer. The thought of sleeping shirtless with Dean is enticing, but the probability of having to deal with Jack at some point before morning has him choosing a washed thin tee. This one is covered in a green and black whirlpool design, a souvenir from a cross country road trip with Gabriel years ago. 

Dean chuckles and slips into the pants, then rolls around on the bed until he gets under the comforter and sheet. Castiel hits the light switch, bedside lamp going dark, and makes his way blindly to the other side of the bed. He climbs into bed, not very gracefully, and scoots toward Dean’s warmth. 

“ C’mere.” Dean slings an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulls him in, slotting their legs together, chests flush. A series of kisses on lips and cheeks. Delicate pressure, almost chaste. Fingers stroking up and down the back of his neck. 

Castiel runs the edge of his thumb along the shell of Dean’s ear. “ I love you.” It falls from his mouth onto the pillow, the small body warmed space between them. 

“ I know.” Dean’s voice is close, lips nearly touching the tip of Castiel’s nose. A few breaths pass and Dean speaks up, wide smile evident in his tone. “ You don’t know that reference, do you?”

Castiel grins, even though he knows Dean can’t see it. “ I don’t, no. But I decided to just go with it.” 

More laughter, more kisses. Castiel unashamedly snuggles closer, pushing his face into Dean’s ruffled hair, enjoying the younger man nosing against his throat. 

It feels utterly amazing. Even more than during their previous sexual activities, though Castiel also greatly enjoyed those, of course. But this. This open vulnerability, so much like that first night together on New Year’s, that excites and calms Castiel in waves until his heart feels so full in his chest it could burst. This is what he craves, what he needs. 

In the warm darkness, the peaceful quiet settling over the house, Castiel just barely catches the tiny whisper under his chin.

“ Love you, too, sweetheart.” 

 

**XOXOXOX**

 

Jack is awake. 

He is looking at the stars on the ceiling. Thinking about things. 

He thinks about how nice candy bars are and why glue is icky and what Claire would look like if she had a beard like Mr. Cain. 

He thinks about Daddy and Dean hugging. Jack loves hugs.

Jack loves Daddy. Jack loves Dean. Jack loves Claire and Mr. Cain and Miss Ambriel and Miss Lenore and Garth and Miss Benjamina and the lady that gave him a strawberry at the grocery store and the cats that live in Mr. Cain’s barn and--

Jack needs to pee. 

He climbs out of bed. _Quiet quiet quiet_ . Because Claire is sleeping and it’s not nice to wake up people. Daddy says so. He _tiptoes tiptoes tiptoes_. 

It’s dark in the hall but the bathroom light is on and Jack is a big boy so he opens the bathroom door wide and runs to the big potty. He forgot his stool!  It’s a nice stool. Blue and green with whales on it. Jack puts his stool on the floor in front of the big potty. And he has to put the big potty seat up. It is heavy and Jack is very careful. 

Jack has to get his pajamas off first because if he tries to do it standing on the stool he will fall over into the big potty again  and be all icky and Daddy will be sad and Jack wants Daddy to be proud of him so Jack unzips his pajamas _aaaaaaaaaall_ the way down and pushes them onto the floor. His pull-up, too. Naked is easier. Daddy says it’s okay to be naked at home but he has to try pottying not-naked when he’s not at home. 

Then Jack stands on the stool and pushes his belly out and pushes his penis down with his fingers and pees in the big potty. His pee is loud on the potty water, but Daddy says that’s good because it means his pee is getting in the potty instead of on the floor. Jack is really good at peeing in the big potty. He can make his pee hit the little red and white circles under the water almost every time! Daddy is always so proud of him when he hits the circles. 

He is almost out of pee. 

Jack pushes a little harder, but there are only little drops now. He shakes his penis, like Daddy showed him, to get all the pee out so he doesn’t get his clean pull-up wet. Jack spins the toilet paper and he tears off a lot but then he remembers Daddy told him to, “ just use a little,” so Jack squishes all the toilet paper until it sits on top of the big roll and tears off a teeny tiny little piece and wipes his penis and drops the teeny tiny little piece of toilet paper into the yellow water. 

It’s fun watching the white paper turn yellow. 

So Jack tears off another teeny tiny little piece of paper and drops it into the big potty.  It turns yellow, too. And sticks to the other piece of paper. This is fun!

But now Jack is getting cold. He wants his pajamas and blankets. 

So he takes all the toilet paper from on top of the roll and drops it into the big potty. It takes longer to turn yellow and some of it doesn’t turn yellow but it does get wet so Jack thinks that’s good enough.

He holds onto the big potty and steps off his stool. He very carefully puts the seat down. It doesn’t pinch his fingers. That means he did a good job!

Jack is supposed to flush the big potty when he’s done but that will make a loud noise and he doesn’t want to be loud because people are sleeping and Daddy says not to wake up people when they are sleeping and Jack is a big boy and listens to Daddy. 

Oh! Jack almost forgot to wash his hands!  He puts his stool in front of the sink. The sink is very high so Jack stands on his very tippy toes and pushes the shiny handle and waits for the water to get warm and one, two, three...four soap squishes from the bottle. This soap smells like clean things. His bath soap smells like strawberries. But the sink soap makes bigger bubbles. 

There’s a lot of bubbles now. 

Jack rubs his hands together and sings his _ABC_ s, two times, really quiet, and turns the water off. There’s a lot of bubbles on his hands and he can’t reach the towel Daddy uses to dry his hands and if he wipes them on his pajamas his pajamas will be wet and icky and Jack doesn’t want that so he looks around for something fluffy to dry his hands on.

The rug is fluffy. And blue. Jack likes blue.

Jack wipes his hands on the fluffy blue rug and wipes and wipes and wipes until there are no bubbles on his hands or on the rug. Clean and dry. 

He puts his stool back in the corner. 

He throws his pull-up in the trash can. 

The clean pull-ups are up too high… 

That’s okay. His pajamas are clean so he pulls them back on but the zipper is too hard so he just does the sticky tab at the top under his chin. His belly is poking out but that’s okay. He has a cute belly. Daddy says so. Dean likes his belly, too. Claire might like his belly. Jack will have to ask her when she wakes up. He jumps up to turn off the bathroom light but it’s too dark so he jumps up again to turn it back on. Then he closes the door almost _aaaaaaaaaaall_ the way like it was before. 

Jack should go back to his own bed. His bed is nice. It has MooMoo and Quackers and Greg and his blanket is fuzzy and green. Daddy says he should stay in bed until Daddy or Claire wakes up. Daddy says Jack is safe in his own bed. 

But Jack hears a bear! 

A growly bear! In Daddy’s room! 

Jack is a big brave boy and he’s gonna get that bear! 

He _tiptoes tiptoes tiptoes_ down the hall to Daddy’s room. The bear growls again. So loud! This is like the song Miss Ambriel sings with him. _Going on a bear hunt, gonna catch a big one!_   Jack puts on his frowny face because Daddy’s door is closed. That’s not okay. Daddy’s door is always open. So Jack opens it and sneaks in _quiet quiet quiet_ and the bear growls again and the bear is in Daddy’s bed!

He’s gonna get that bear!  So Jack grabs the blankets and climbs up onto the bed next to Daddy’s feet and the bear’s feet and crawls _up up up_ until he can see Daddy’s face and then the bear growls again and the bear is…

Dean? Dean is a bear?

Dean sounds like a bear. All growly and snorty and he growls again but then he coughs and wiggles and he’s all quiet now. 

Jack puts on his frowny face again. He wanted to catch a bear. 

And why is Dean in Daddy’s bed. Maybe Dean doesn’t have his own bed? Or maybe Dean doesn’t like his own bed?

But then Jack yawns and he is cold and a _little little little_ sleepy so he climbs over the lumpy blankets until Daddy snorts and Dean says a bad word and they help him get under the blankets between them. Jack wipes his itchy nose on Dean’s arm and rubs his itchy bottom on Daddy’s belly. 

This is nice. 

Jack is warm and dry and just a little sleepy and he loves Daddy and he loves Dean and they don’t even get mad at him when he toots under the blankets. 

**_tbc…_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Many thanks for reading, kudos, and comments!!!


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